


Heel Sit Stay

by neck_romancer



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Dogs, F/F, First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Rom-com, Romance, Vicchan Lives, dog show au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-08 17:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neck_romancer/pseuds/neck_romancer
Summary: Yuuri gave up a skating career to care for his ailing dog four years ago.  Now he's at the 2016 World Dog Show in Moscow, his faithful partner Vicchan in perfect health.  They're athletes of a different sport now--doggy agility--and they've come to defend their titles as reigning champions.  For Yuuri, though, it was just a nice way to pass the time.  Nothing truly nerve-wracking ever happened at these dog shows.He really should have realized that there was a high chance he'd run into a certain Russian dog lover.(AKA the dog show AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fic in years, but I had to. I even started watching some videos of dog shows (for research) and who was emcee-ing but Johnny Weir. Truly it was meant to be.
> 
> Funnily enough, the World Dog Show actually did take place in Moscow in 2016, which I'm using as the year Viktor would have flown to Hasetsu in the canon. (Meant to be, I tell you.) That said, there are a lot of inaccuracies--I'm not entirely sure there even was agility at the Moscow one, ABC's don't generally include small dogs like Vicchan, I made up a lot of crap, etc.--so apologies in advance.

 

_“For those of you just tuning in, you are watching the live broadcast of day two-”_

_“Live_ stream _, Alan.”_

 _“-thank you, James—_ livestream _—of day two here at the 2016 FCI World Dog Show in Moscow!  We’re here today representing the UK Kennel Club.  Very excited to be bringing you viewers at home an exclusive look into this outstanding event.”_

_“And a lovely show it is.  Luckily, you don’t have to come all the way to Russia to see it, you can watch four days’ worth of events on our YouTube channel.  Technology’s certainly come a long way since we started commentating, hasn’t it?”_

_“Too right it has!  Now, coming up next will be the terrier group judging.  Looking forward to it. Hundreds of terriers have come today and only the best of each breed have made it to this round of judging.”_

_“And who doesn’t love a terrier?”_

_“Ah, the viewers at home will be interested in this.  I’ve just heard that all the way on the other side of the convention center they’ve finished setting up and the agility trials will be underway shortly.  Always the most exciting events of any show and a marvelous opportunity to see the sheer athleticism of these dogs in action.”_

_“Of course the ABC—Anything But Collies—Agility Championship was held yesterday, and if you get a chance to watch it again on YouTube I highly recommend it.  It was a wonderful showing.”_

_“A magnificent contest, James.  The winner comes all the way from Japan—did very well in Crufts this year, too.  Three time world champion, Yuuri Katsuki.”_

_“I believe he’s running his dog in the Standard International Agility Championship today, as well.”_

_“That’s right.”_

_“They’re saying he is the one to beat.  And competing so far from home, too.  It must be lonely at the top.”_

_“Oh it must.  I do wonder how he manages to keep his head under all this pressure.”_

_“They say the Japanese are very stoic.”_

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

....

 

Yuuri hoped the smile on his face looked natural.  The family took their picture and walked off, children waving and chatting in excitement.  He waved back stiffly.  He would never get used to this part.  Wanting to take pictures with Vicchan he could understand.  But Yuuri?  Yuuri with his chapped lips and smudged glasses?  Had he even combed his hair today?  He couldn’t wait to get back in the ring where he was more comfortable.

There was a time when Yuuri wanted to become a professional figure skater.  He’d even competed at the national level and studied abroad for a few years in hopes of making his mark on the world stage.  In the hopes of skating on the same ice as his idol.

But none of that seemed to matter after Vicchan got sick.

Vicchan was Yuuri’s closest friend and confidant.  On bad days, Vicchan would always be there to lick away the tears or shove a cold nose in his face.  And on _bad_ days, when Yuuri thought fear and shame would shake him apart, Vicchan would be there, curled up with him in bed.  Yuuri believed he wouldn’t be capable of standing on his own feet if it weren’t for his family and friends.  Vicchan was both.

At 20, Yuuri was already struggling with doubt over his future in America. When he heard the news, he booked a flight back to Hasetsu and never looked back.

(Aside from a few wistful glances here or there.)

So Yuuri came home and spent every waking moment helping Vicchan recover.  The poodle was also dangerously overweight, so the vet suggested agility as a healthy form of exercise.  Willing to do anything, Yuuri set up a doggy obstacle course in the parking lot of the inn.  At first, it was a struggle to get the pup to leave her doggy bed.  But as the months flew by, Vicchan came into her own as an uncatchable, fluffy speed demon.

Agility was good for both of them.  Vicchan was happy and healthy, it took Yuuri’s mind off of his failed skating career, and Vicchan’s tricks were a big hit at the inn so business had never been better.

To everyone’s surprise, Vicchan turned out to be some kind of prodigy at doggy athletics.  It wasn’t too surprising, given that he’d been following Yuuri on his runs and to dance practices since he was a puppy.  When Yuuri realized there was money to be made at agility competitions, he thought, “Oh why not?”  They easily won their first competition.  And their second.  Then they just kept winning.

Yuuri (and Vicchan) were now somewhat famous in the dog show circuit, having won almost every major agility competition in the world at least once.  And though the competition was fierce, it felt nothing like figure skating.

There was no anxiety, no blurred vision, no shortness of breath.  Yuuri felt...laid back.  It was weird.  He guessed it was because of Vicchan.  She was like a living, breathing security blanket.  Having someone to take care of for a change also gave Yuuri a focus he’d never had on the ice.  He often wondered if things would have been different if he’d been allowed to bring his poodle to skating events. 

It also helped that it was Vicchan, not him, in the spotlight.  The only part of Yuuri that ever made it on camera most of the time were his ankles.  No one really looks at the human running in front of the cute dog.

The occasional interview that reduced him to a stammering mess was usually defused when the question of Vicchan’s name came up.  

“Victor is an unusual name for a _female_ poodle, what’s the story behind that?”

That’s when Yuuri’s nerves would be smothered by the feverish excitement of a true fan, ready to talk about Viktor Nikiforov and why he was so beautiful and so perfect and so amazing that no other name would possibly do.

(Gushing about Viktor Nikiforov had not been the best ice breaker in the pro skating community.  You’d look like a weirdo.  The great thing about dog people was their high tolerance for weirdness.  Yuuri once met a woman who’d named her sheltie “Fat Bottomed Girl”—Bottom for short--after her favorite song.)

His babbling would be met with blank stares, of course.  Not many people at these events tended to keep up with the sport.   So Yuuri would eventually just say, “The name Victor suits her, because she always wins.”

Yuuri worried things would be different in Russia.  It was his first time in the country and he had half expected Russian reporters to descend upon him for stealing the name of their national hero.

But aside from a few photo ops after their win the day before, the press didn’t seem interested.  This morning it was mostly poodle lovers and really faithful agility enthusiasts who kept coming up to him and asking for a photo of his dog.

Yuuri carried Vicchan back to their bench to avoid taking more pictures.  Like all the other dog handlers, he and Vicchan had their own little cubby area to put their things between competitions.  It was the dog version of a locker room, rows of benches divided into square areas by partitions, and in each square a frazzled handler brushing their dog.  Mari, who came with him to all his competitions, called them puppy cubicles. 

Unlike a locker room, however, they were situated out in the open on the convention floor so anyone could walk up and ask to pet the dogs, or bring their own to say hello.  Yuuri didn’t mind this at all, but the constant social interaction was exhausting.  He was grateful for Mari’s presence at times like this.  She didn’t mind picking up the slack in a conversation when Yuuri ran out of things to say.

She poked Yuuri in the scalp when he sat down.  “I’m gonna go find a place where I can smoke without any dog people trying to deport me.”

Vicchan yipped in clear disapproval.

“Vicchan’s right,” Yuuri said.  “I think you’re getting addicted to those things.”

Mari stuck out her tongue at them both.  “No more letting mom babysit either of you from now on.  She’s clearly a bad influence.”

“I’m 23.”

Mari shrugged, already walking away.  “Vicchan, watch Yuuri for me!  Make sure he doesn’t eat anything he’s not supposed to.”

Vicchan barked.

“I should never have gone to America, she turned you against me.”

Vicchan just licked him (right in the glasses) and crawled off to dive into her pile of toys.

Yuuri supposed he should be grateful that Vicchan was behaving at all.  She had a tendency to get overexcited around other dogs and tire herself out playing before they even got to the agility course.  They still had hours before the first round, actually.  Maybe she’d be able to take a nap, and then Yuuri could-

_BORF!_

“Gah!”

Yuuri’s strangled shout was immediately smothered by the ocean of fur he was currently drowning in.  The fur retreated enough for Yuuri to breathe, only for his face to be bathed in enthusiastic dog kisses.  Vicchan came to Yuuri’s aid and helpfully barked in his ear.

It was a dog.  A big friendly dog.  With a lot of curls.  “Okay, okay, nice to meet you, too,” Yuuri laughed and gently moved the new dog’s muzzle away.  A brown standard poodle.  Almost an exact copy of Vicchan, albeit huge and male.  His fluffy tail was wagging as he stood with his front paws on Yuuri’s shoulders.  Yuuri scratched behind his ears.  “Good dog.  Where did you come from, huh?”

Vicchan barked again, catching the bigger poodle’s attention.  Yuuri tensed, since Vicchan tended to be territorial with her toys (and Yuuri), but the new poodle seemed to have won her approval because she let him nose at her favorite plastic ball.

No collar.  No leash.  The owner must be pretty irresponsible.  There didn’t seem to be anyone nearby who looked like they were missing a standard poodle, either.

“Who do you belong to?”  Mystery Poodle tilted his head, then went back to playing.  Mystery Poodle and Vicchan were wrestling over the ball.  Vicchan put up a good fight, but it was a losing battle.

“I guess when Mari gets back, I can ask her to watch Vicchan while I take you to a staffer.  They’ll know what to do.”

Mystery Poodle won the ball and did a victory spin.  Vicchan barked.  She stared unblinking at her plundered treasure.

“Hm.  But what if they don’t speak English…”

Mystery Poodle backed up a step, slobbery ball secured in his jaws. 

“I guess we could-”

Vicchan pounced. 

Yuuri realized what was about to happen too late.  He watched in horror as Mystery Poodle dodged Vicchan’s attack and started to run.  Yuuri made a frantic grab for Vicchan’s leash.  Missed.  Mystery Poodle was off like a rocket.  Before Yuuri could react, Vicchan was after him, leash trailing uselessly behind her.

“Vicchan, no!  Come!”

Yuuri ran.  He sped through the benches, jumping over dog carriers.  They were heading straight for a sea of people.  Oh no.  He cursed in Japanese when the dogs disappeared into a forest of human legs.

The convention hall was a chaotic tangle of dog show attendees and competitors.  Other dogs (and their humans) yelped as Yuuri blundered through the crowd.

“Vicchan!  _Oide!_ Vicchan!”

Yuuri chased the poodles through the show dog prepping stations, apologizing to several angry groomers. 

He knocked over a table of shampoo bottles.

He upset a pen of hysterical Chinese cresteds.

And now people were shouting at him in Russian.

“Oops—sorry!  Sorry!  I’m so sorry!  _P-prosti!”_

He couldn’t stop, he had to follow the sound of barking…or alternatively, the trail of destruction.  The poodles seemed to have agitated the other dogs and overturned a basin full of soapy water.  There were a lot of wet Russians to apologize to, which Yuuri attempted as he skid by.

Their jaunt through the doggy baths slowed them down enough that Yuuri was able to catch up.  The poodles had found their way into the Meet the Breed section of the show.   They darted under tables.  Jumped on tables.  Jumped _over_ a sleepy greyhound.  Made a mess of the chihuahua booth.  Sent the beagles into a frenzy.

Shouting apologies, Yuuri sprinted down the length of the aisle.  The poodles had already moved on to the next section, gaining an advantage when Yuuri had to help the chihuahua guy out of the huge sombrero-shaped doggy tent that had collapsed on him. 

Yuuri rounded the corner.  He had no idea where he was now.  It seemed to be a second bench site for handlers—more doggy cubicles.  But there were fewer people in this area, allowing Yuuri to find the dogs before he could lose them in the rows.  If he could just keep an eye on them...

Mystery Poodle suddenly froze, head cocked to the side. 

Vicchan, unbothered, ran in a circle around him, barking excitedly. 

Yuuri was almost on them when he heard a man’s voice shouting something frantic in Russian.  Mystery Poodle’s ears perked up and he barked, running off again, Vicchan following.

“Vicchan, come back here!” Yuuri wheezed.

He lost sight of them again, but they were just in the next row.  He could hear excited barking, shouting, then a crash.  Yuuri groaned.  Not again.

But the next sound he heard was laughter, followed by very fast, happy Russian.  Yuuri finally reached the next row and saw that Mystery Poodle had bowled someone to the ground and was licking their face.  Vicchan yipped and bounced around the man’s head.  The man laughed and hugged Mystery Poodle, saying something to him that Yuuri couldn’t understand.  He slowed to a stop, clutching the stitch in his side.  This must be the owner.  Thank god.

“Vicchan, come!” Yuuri said in his sternest You’re-In-Trouble-Young-Lady voice. 

Vicchan gave him what Yuuri thought was a sheepish look and trotted back over to his side.  Yuuri picked her up, wrapping the leash around his wrist for good measure. 

“You little demon, never do that again!  Honestly.  You’re going to get us kicked out of Russia.”

Vicchan yawned.

“Unbelievable.”

The man on the ground sat up, face buried in his dog’s fur.  He looked so relieved to be reunited that the lecture about irresponsible dog ownership, which had been building on Yuuri’s tongue, dissolved.

Mostly.

“Um.  You should really leash your dog.”

“Oh?  Helloomph!” the man tried to say through the tongue bath he was getting.  “Makka, down!  Hello!  Are you the one who found him?!”  The man’s English was smooth and accented.

“Sort of.  He found me.”  Silver hair?  How old was this guy?  Yuuri shifted uncomfortably.  What if he’d fallen and broken a hip or something?  “Hey um.  Are you okay?”

“More than, now that my Makka is back safe.  I’ve been looking everywhere for you!  I was so worried, what if you’d been hit by a car, or eaten by a bear?”  He vigorously ruffled the dog’s floppy ears.  Yuuri still couldn’t see his face while he was half covered in poodle on the floor, but he didn’t seem like an 80 year old man who needed an ambulance.  “You’re so lucky this kind stranger brought you back to me.”

“I really didn’t do anything useful.”  He really hadn’t.  “So, uh, I better get going.  But like I said, you have to leash your dog in here.  It’s a big place, so...”

“Wait, I haven’t thanked you yet.” 

The man whipped out a handkerchief and used it to delicately wipe the drool from his face.  He stood up and hid the cloth away again in one smooth motion. 

“You were completely right about the leash, I should have been more careful.  I can’t thank you enough for your help.  I hope Makka didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

The dazzling smile sent Yuuri’s way made his heart stop. 

“I’m Viktor.  And this is Makkachin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oide - (Japanese) "come"  
> prosti - (Russian) "sorry"
> 
>  **LINKS:**  
>  ok so I watched a lot of dog show videos while I was researching for this fic. And by that I mean I used any excuse I could think of to spend hours watching cute dogs on youtube while softly crying into my pillow. So at the end of each chapter, I'm thinking of sharing some of those videos.
> 
>  
> 
> [[Here's what the World Dog Show in Moscow actually looked like]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DlKHMRVIVes)


	2. Chapter 2

 

Yuuri stared uncomprehending at the hand held out to him. 

The well-manicured hand of his dreams. 

Not specifically the hand part.

But sometimes hands _would_ feature prominently.

Not that Yuuri had a thing for hands, but they were really very nice hands-

 _Oh GOD,_ Yuuri’s brain screamed.  _Viktor Nikiforov is here and he wants me to shake his hand._

Yuuri’s wooden limbs moved to return the greeting.  Their hands met and Yuuri's soul left his body.

How red must he be with all the blood in his body rushing to his face?  Viktor was somehow even more Adonis-like in person than in his posters.  The stylishly quaffed hair.  The smooth complexion.  The ice blue eyes that were surprisingly warm and...staring at him? 

 _Do I have something on my face?  Should I check?  Would that draw attention to it or should I ignore it??_ Viktor’s cheeks went slightly pink.  _I definitely have something on my face._ _Wait no—it’s because I’m just holding his hand!_

Yuuri jerked away.  Viktor seemed put out for some reason, but then his eyes landed on the bundle in Yuuri’s arms.

“Wow~ a toy poodle!  So cute!  _Enchanté_ ,” Viktor daintily shook Vicchan’s paw.  She sniffed him back.  “What’s your name?”

After a protracted pause Yuuri realized that _Viktor Nikiforov_ was waiting for an answer from _him_. 

 “Oh um her name is Vik-”

_Don’t tell him you named your dog after him!_

“Vi…ckie.  Vickie!  Is her name!  We call her Vicchan for short.  And I’m Katsuki—I mean, Yuuri.  Yuuri Katsuki.  I have a poodle.  We both have poodles.  It’s very nice to meet you.” 

He bowed.  Out of habit. 

_Why did I do that, he’s a Westerner he’s going to think I’m weird, oh my god he’s so beautiful up close why didn’t I comb my hair??_

Viktor ( _Nikiforov!_ ) wasn’t fazed.  “The pleasure is all mine, _Yuuri_.”  The way he purred his name should be banned in all nations.   “Hm.  I know a Yuri.  But he’s more of a cat person, unfortunately.” 

Yuuri didn’t know what to say about that, so he nodded. 

“I cannot believe Makkachin ran off on me like that!  I only took my eyes off him for a second to say hello to the cutest little daschund—then he was gone!  Normally we never use his leash, he’s so well behaved.  Were you jealous of the daschund, Makkachin?” 

Makkachin panted happily as his ears were scratched.  Yuuri was the jealous one.  Lucky dog.

It was fortunate that Viktor was evidently a bottomless well of conversation, because Yuuri could only stand there stupidly trying not to drool or weep.  “Thank you again for looking after my Makkachin, Yuuri.  I’m afraid we were a little overwhelmed when we arrived—and I’ve been called absent-minded at the best of times.  I had no idea it would be like _this._   We’ve never seen a dog show before.  Is it your first as well?”

Yuuri nodded and said, “No.”  Oops.

“We compete at dog shows often,” he clarified, looking to Vicchan for confirmation and moral support.  She was chewing the string of his hoodie.

“You compete?”  Viktor’s smile looked almost like a heart.  Adorable.  God dammit.

“In agility.  Me and Vicchan, that is.”

“Wow!”  Viktor clapped his hands.  “Us, too!”

“Wait...what?”  Yuuri’s brain, which had just begun to process _Viktor Nikiforov and his dog are at the same dog show as me_ , stuttered to a stop at _Viktor Nikiforov and his dog are competing in a puppy obstacle course event_.  “What about your training?”

The heart-smile grew three sizes that day.  “Oh Yuuri, do you follow figure skating?  Are you by any chance my _fan?_ ”  Yuuri was losing his mind because he swore the other man was batting his lashes.

Yuuri yelped, “No!”  Viktor pouted.  “I-I mean, I just saw a poster of you.  At the airport.  When we flew in.”  He really had.  He got Mari to take a picture of him in front of it.  “And I watch the sport sometimes so I recognized you.”

“Oh!  I know the ad you’re thinking of.  The big one at Sheremetyevo?”

“Yes.”

“Calvin Klein underwear 2016?”

 _Crap._   “Y-yes.”

Viktor smile turned devious but before he could continue down that path, Yuuri blurted, “SO where’s your puppy cubicle?”

“I’m...sorry?”

“I mean your _bench_.  That is.  Um.  You should get Makkachin leashed up before he runs off again.”

“Hm.  I suppose you’re right.”  Viktor held a finger to his lips while he thought about it.  “Alright Yuuri, you’d better accompany me.”

“Hah?”

“Makkachin’s a flight risk, Yuuri, just as you said.  If he tries anything, I’ll need you to help me catch him.” 

He then _winked._

Yuuri couldn’t argue with that.

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

Yuuri learned several things over the next few minutes:

  1. Makkachin has a Louise Vuitton leash.
  2. And his own personal trainer.
  3. A trainer so famous even Yuuri had heard of him.
  4. To keep Makkachin active while Viktor was travelling, they started agility.
  5. The trainer and Makkachin had been invited to the World Dog Show.
  6. The trainer was forced to made a sudden trip to Hollywood (emergency, talking dog movie, Michael Bay, it’s complicated)
  7. Viktor Nikiforov has a lot of free time in the off season



“So you came here in his place?”

Viktor and Yuuri sat at the bench, Vicchan and Makkachin laying at their feet.  They held onto their leashes tightly this time.

“Well, I was originally just going to watch, but when he couldn’t make it... Makka’s certified to compete and I thought it was a shame to let the tickets go to waste.  So here we are!”

“Have you done agility before?”  Yuuri was having trouble picturing it.

“Oh yes.  I attend as many of Makkachin’s classes as I can when I’m home.  It’s important for us to bond since I’m away so much.  We’ve been playing agility games for years— I had no idea it was a _sport!_   And of course I want the world to see how talented my darling Makka is.”

Yuuri relaxed at that.  For a moment there, he was worried that he was about to witness the hero of Russia publicly fail at a sport most people already thought was kind of stupid.

Yeah right.  This was _Viktor Nikiforov_.  No doubt he was marvelous at this, too.  Yuuri was a bit excited, actually.  This was a rare opportunity to see the Nikiforv grace up close and personal.  Even if it _was_ off the ice.  He’d probably have time to watch before his own match at-

“Wait, did you say you were in the jumpers?”  Yuuri asked.  He could have sworn the first round was...  “When’s your first event?”

“10 am.”

“Viktor!  It’s 9:55!”

Viktor tilted his head in confusion.  “It’s alright, there’s plenty of time.  There are over thirty people ahead of me in the bracket so my turn won’t—Yuuri?”

Yuuri was already up and pressing Makkachin’s leash into Viktor’s hands.  “If we go now, you might still make the walk-through!”

“The what?  Yuuri, wait for me!”

Although they made it to the arena in record time, the event had already begun when they got there.  The stands were already packed with people, chatter and barking echoing off the high ceiling.  The main attraction was a rectangle of artificial grass the size of two basketball courts.  Within the fenced off space was a number of brightly colored obstacles.  Currently, a woman was sprinting in the middle of it all while calling out to a scruffy little terrier.  The terrier scampered after her eagerly, but knocked a pole down when it tried a hurdle.  A collective “aww” rose from the audience.

“...We missed it.”

“Missed what?”

Yuuri waved dejectedly at the ring where the terrier was now walking underneath the poles, to the exasperation of its human.  “You missed your walk-through.  You’re supposed to have five minutes before the start of the round to go over the course.”

Viktor studied the field thoughtfully.  “Hmm, I didn’t know.  Oh well, I can learn by watching.  It’s not so different from the one at our park, after all.”

Yuuri saw his point.  It was the standard fare: weave-poles, tunnels and thirteen jumpers.  All numbered in the order they were meant to be taken.  It _was_ a fairly simple set up, but then this was just the qualifying round before the prelims.  Obviously a great mind like Viktor’s would be able to grasp a simple thing like this at a glance.  Yuuri felt like an idiot for making them run all this way.

Even though he knew he should probably find Mari or go back to his own bench, he couldn’t help but follow Viktor into the competitor’s waiting area.  Viktor seemed to want him to, but it was still strange.  He didn’t _know_ Viktor.  It’s not like they were friends, so he had no business hanging around him like this. 

But he kept sending him those easy smiles and Yuuri was loathe to give that up. 

Besides, Viktor was clearly there alone.  He didn’t know the ins and outs of the dog show world.  Yuuri was just being a good guide.  So it was perfectly fine to sit with Viktor and listen to him whisper about the cuteness of a nearby lab begging for tummy rubs.

In the ring, dog and handler pairs came and went.  With each round lasting an average of 40 seconds, progress was swift.  At higher levels, the dogs would be running at breakneck speed, cutting at least ten seconds off that average time.  But these were still the qualifiers. 

One husky took over two minutes to finish.  Despite her trainer’s vocal encouragement, the dog took her time carefully completing every obstacle.  As the husky delicately tip toed through the weaves, the audience clapped and shouted their support.  They went over the time limit, but the dog was so clearly trying her best that no one had the heart to stop them.

There was also a collie/spaniel mix that was making really good time, until he decided that doing his own thing was more fun that following his handler. He managed to jump through the tire obstacle twelve times before they caught him.

Viktor was having the time of his life, based on how many videos he was taking and how he couldn’t go two seconds without cooing over something.  But Yuuri noticed that when a mistake was made and the judge gave out penalties, Viktor would lean forward a little in his seat with a furrowed brow.  Yuuri supposed that a top athlete like Viktor would take even a little dog show competition like this seriously. 

But when the 36th person to go was leaving the field, Viktor leaned back and let out a sigh of realization.

“I see.  You must do the jumps in a certain _order_.  _That’s_ why they’re numbered.”

Yuuri whipped his head around to stare.  “What are you- you don't  _know_ -“

The overhead display flashed the names and numbers of the next pair.

“Number twenty-seven, that’s me.  Wish us luck, Yuuri!”

Yuuri could only watch slack-jawed as Viktor skipped over to the ring, Makkachin bouncing along after.  Yuuri had a white knuckled grip on Viktor’s phone.

(“When we’re out there, can you take photos of Makkachin and me?  I asked Yakov to come and help take pictures but he refused to fly out to Moscow just for this.”)

The announcer was saying something in Russian.  Yuuri could only pick out “Viktor Nikiforov,” “Makkachin,” and “St. Petersburg.”  There was polite clapping, but not the uproar Yuuri would expect for Russia’s national hero.  Was it possible that they really didn’t know?  Maybe that was a blessing.  If Viktor, whose dog agility expertise Yuuri was doubting more by the second, were to embarrass himself in such a public way...

But no.  This was still Viktor Nikiforov.  Yuuri needed to have more faith in him.  He’d be fine.

The round began.

Like all the other handlers before him, Viktor’s first move would be to tell Makkachin which jump to take.  Most people did that by pointing.  Viktor was not most people.

Viktor gave himself a running start and leapt over the first hurdle.  His legs formed a near split and he cleared the 60cm bar.  Makkachin woofed excitedly and followed a split second later.  Yuuri watched incredulously as Viktor laughed and sprinted to the next jump—vaulting over that too.  He fumbled with Viktor’s phone when he recalled that we was meant to be taking pictures.

Like a graceful gazelle, Viktor pranced in dizzying loops around the course, Makkachin hot at his heels.  People hooted and cheered.  The officials looked close to a panic.  The judge stood there with his mouth wide open.  With a final grand jeté, Viktor and Makkachin made their last jump, landing with flair side-by-side.  In his shock, Yuuri traitorously thought that Viktor’s back leg extension could’ve been better on that last one.

The audience exploded in noise.  Someone threw a rose into the ring.

 _Well at least he managed to do the course in order,_ Yuuri thought.

But despite his impressively quick time, he was immediately disqualified.  Viktor stared open-mouthed at the leader board, looking back and forth between it and the lecture he seemed to be getting from the judge.  The audience started chanting “Mak-ka-chin!” in support.  When Viktor returned to Yuuri he was sporting a doleful pout.

“It seems I broke some rules.”

 

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

They walked together through the convention hall after.

Viktor’s face when confused was a sight Yuuri hadn’t yet seen in interviews or photoshoots.  His eyes were wide like a child’s and a smooth crease appeared between his brows.  It was a strangely innocent expression for a man on twenty-seven.  It was most definitely not absolutely adorable.

“So I can’t jump over the obstacles, or touch them, or even touch Makkachin??”

“No.”

“But that’s how we always did it before at the park.  Makkachin likes to race, and it’s good strength training for me, too.”

“I guess it’s fine for playing, but... Didn’t Makkachin’s trainer ever teach you the rules for competition?”

Viktor puckered his lips.  “He might have mentioned something like that.  Perhaps I should have paid more attention. Oops.”

Yuuri shot him the latest of a growing pile of disbelieving looks.  He was becoming more comfortable doing that around his idol.  But then he was also beginning to realize that Viktor might be a bit of an airhead about some things.

“You’re lucky there were no cameras.”

Viktor hummed his doubt.  “There were camera _phones_ , though.”

Yuuri froze mid-step.  “Viktor, what are you going to do?  People will upload that and realize it’s you and....”

Viktor stopped walking, too, head tilted curiously.  “And what?”

“Well...they’ll say stuff about you in the press and, and laugh and it’ll ruin your image.”

“Is that all?  I don’t really care about that.”

“You’re not embarrassed?”  If it had been Yuuri, he’d never leave the house again.

“Embarrassed for what?  I’m having a good time with Makkachin at our first dog show.  This is fun!”  Viktor’s voice gained a note of humor.  “And I admit, it is somehow liberating to lose so badly for once.”

Yuuri wasn’t a champion like Viktor.  He could never understand that.

“So you don’t care if you lose?”

Viktor’s smile vanished and his gaze hardened.

“Absolutely not. I want my baby to win.”  That surprised a laugh out of Yuuri.  “Where are you taking me, by the way?” Viktor asked.

Viktor may have disqualified himself out of the jumping-exclusive competition, but there was still the standard agility championships left.

“Somewhere where I can help you win.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments so far! I'll have the next chapter up soon hopefully.
> 
>  
> 
> **LINKS:**
> 
>  
> 
> [[This is]](https://youtu.be/hdWzEE6PuYg?t=27s) more or less what the jumping course would look like.  
> [[And this]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ESbT17EFCwU) is basically what Viktor is doing.
> 
> Also, I found out yesterday that there's a real life retired Olympian gold medalist who does dog agility nowadays (and his dogs are called Dobby, Hedwig, and Woof Blitzer I'm dead). So this is actually something that happens in the real world ahaha how did I know??


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay! I meant to have this chapter up much sooner, but life happened. Thank you guys so much for your comments and kind words, you have no idea how happy it makes me.
> 
> Oh, and if Viktor seems too dorky and ridiculous, even for him, it's because this is how I think he'd be if he were surrounded by cute dogs. He on that puppy high tho.

After taking the dogs on a quick walk, Yuuri and Viktor arrived at the unused area of parking lot that Yuuri had stumbled upon the day before.  The unoccupied parking spaces left just enough room for a little makeshift agility course.  It was a good thing that Yuuri had remembered to pack some DIY obstacles made of cardboard, ducktape and styrofoam.  On trips like these, he liked to have them folded away in his extra luggage just in case they happened upon a park (or empty parking lot) they could use for Vicchan’s warmups.  He was missing the seesaw and dogwalk, but he had jumps, weave poles, a tunnel, and a mini A-frame. 

Viktor whistled.  It echoed.

“Yuuri!  This is amazing!”

“It’s nothing,” Yuuri blushed.  “I just thought it might help?  This way I can quickly teach you the rules before your next qualifier.”  It was an hour and a half away.  Yuuri was counting on Viktor, an Olympian level athlete, to catch on quickly.

Mari waited for them by an empty suitcase.  She discreetly stomped out a cigarette and tried to wave away the smell.  “ _Hey.  I got everything set up like you asked_ ,” she said in Japanese.

“ _Thanks again for your help, Mari-nee-chan.”_  

Her eyebrows shot up when she saw his companion.  “Who’s this?” she asked in English.

“Hi!  I’m Viktor,” the Russian legend chirped.  Almost simultaneously, Vicchan barked, startling all of them.

“So yeah this is Viktor,” Yuuri added.  Vicchan barked again and Yuuri shushed her.

Mari inclined her head politely.  “I’m Mari Katsuki, Yuuri’s sister.  Nice to meet you...”  She pursed her lips.  “Actually, have we met before because you look familiar...?”

Yuuri cut in hastily.  “Viktor-“

(Vicchan whined)

“-and Makkachin need to practice before their next competition.  And I, um, said I’d help them, so...”

“So we’re gonna be down here a while?  Fine with me,” Mari shrugged and pointed a thumb over her shoulder.  There was a greasy paper bag on the suitcase that stood against the wall.  “I got some food while you were gone.  It’s some kind of meat pastry thing.  I’ll just have my lunch over there while you guys play with the dogs.”  Yuuri thanked her again before turning back to Viktor.

“Ready to get started?”

Viktor bobbed his head up and down enthusiastically.  Makkachin licked his chops, which Yuuri took as an affirmative, so he called Vicchan over and started with an overview of the rules.

“The obstacles are sequential.  So say this is labeled with a 1.”  He pointed to a jump.  “She’ll take this first.”  He led Vicchan over the jump, which she hopped over with ease.  After she landed she stared up at Yuuri with an expectant smile.  “And if this one is labeled with a 2, I’d take her there next.”  He walked Vicchan past all the other tempting obstacles to a jump on the far side of the course.  She went over when he told her to, and he praised her for doing a good job.  She bounced around in excitement.

Viktor nodded.  “Simple enough.”

“It seems that way, but the tricky part is that _order_ isn’t the only thing that matters— _direction_ does, too.  So if the 2 sign for this jump was on the left side, Vicchan has to jump from the left.”  He waved for Vicchan to do so, and she followed.  “And if it was on the other side, she’d have to go the other way.”  He had her demonstrate again, then rewarded her with a treat.  “A lot of obstacles will have more than one number on them, and you really have to pay attention. 

“So if the tunnel is number 3, but you see the 3 by the left entrance, you can only go in through the left.”  Yuuri rushed to correct himself, “Um!  Except if there’s another number, like—like if the tunnel _also_ had a number 10 on the _right_ side.  Then you’d go right.  But only when you were on, uh, your tenth obstacle.  Does that make sense?”

Yuuri sucked at teaching.  He sucked at everything.  But in spite of this, Viktor seemed to be hanging onto his every word.

“Yes!  We have to follow the numbers!  Okay, Makkachin?”  Viktor squished Makkachin’s fluffy cheeks.

“Uh, yeah.  That’s.  Much simpler than I made it sound, actually.  Anyway, the main thing is that you don’t mess up the order.  Or the directions.  And get a good time.  Also don’t get any faults and—oh.  Um.  Yes…?”

Viktor had put up his hand and held it over his head as he asked his question.  “Yuuri!  I got 1300 faults in the last round, but what are they exactly?”

“They’re basically like penalties.  So if you take an obstacle from the wrong side you get five faults.  And if the dog knocks down a pole from the jump hurdle, you also get five.  Most mistakes get five, actually.  For example...”

Yuuri led Vicchan up to the makeshift A-frame.  It formed a triangle (or an “A”) on the ground—a ramp going up and a ramp going back down.  The bottom third portions of both sides were painted white.  Vicchan ran up to the ramp, but just as she put her paw on its white surface, Yuuri pointedly turned away.  With no orders, Vicchan lost focus immediately and wandered away to sniff something on the ground. 

“If your dog starts to take an obstacle and then turns away, that’s a refusal and it’s five faults.  Vicchan gets...easily distracted, so this can be a problem for her.”

Yuuri made kissy noises to get Vicchan’s attention and she skipped back over to the A-frame.  This time he encouraged her up and over, but stopped her on the way down.

“Now this is the one where everyone makes mistakes.  The A-frame, the dogwalk, and the seesaw are called the ‘contacts.’  You see this white part?”  Yuuri indicated the area of painted white at the end of the decline.  “All the contacts have this.  You have to get your dog to step on that.  Just one paw touching it should be enough.  But if they jump off without making contact with the white part, you get five faults.”

Yuuri let Vicchan climb down, making sure she touched the white contact before she leapt to the ground.

“It’s mainly for safety, I think.  They don’t want the dogs to just jump down halfway off the frame.  The real one is pretty tall, so jumping from that height could be bad for some dogs.”

Viktor looked a little overwhelmed but he nodded slowly.  “That...makes sense.  But if it’s just one paw, will they really be able to see that?”

“The judge will be following you around.  And if it’s a close call, they’ll have slow motion replay.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Viktor tapped his lip thoughtfully.  “That’s very strict.  But not any more than skating, I suppose.  Can you still win with faults?””

Yuuri scratched his head.  “Maybe?  It depends on the competition.  But basically you’re ranked on your time first, and then on whether you have faults second.  So you could have the longest time with no faults and still do better than someone with half your time and one fault.  Plus if you get 100 faults, that’s automatic elimination.”

“So we can’t really afford a penalty.”

“Right.  So no messing up the order or going over the time limit, because that’s 100 faults each.  So’s being mean to your dog.  And touching your dog.  Also jumping over the obstacles.  Don’t do that again.”

“I would never be mean to Makkachin, Yuuri!” Viktor whined, hand over heart, and Yuuri stifled a laugh.

They spent the better part of the next hour practicing.  Yuuri would demonstrate with Vicchan, and then correct Viktor when it was his turn.  Yuuri was pleased to find that Makkachin was freakishly smart—so much so that Yuuri was actually kind of jealous.  That Hollywood trainer had done his job well.  As long as Viktor could remember the right words and gestures, the poodle followed beautifully.

The problem was getting Viktor to remember.  At some point in the past, he _had_ been taught the proper way to lead.  But it was taking him a while to remember.  There was a lot of trial and error.

“Yuuuuuri, Makkachin won’t listen to me!”

Viktor sighed like a Victorian maiden and latched onto Yuuri’s arm dramatically.  Yuuri had also noticed that as time went on, Viktor’s concept of personal space seemed to be dissolving into nothing.  Yuuri stiffened with every new shoulder pat or lingering touch, and he had no idea how he was meant to respond in this situation.

So he ignored it.

“You’re trying to get him to jump from the right direction, so what are you doing to tell Makkachin what you want?”

“I’m telling him to go left, but he keeps going right.  Maybe he doesn’t know the Russian word for left?  I think his trainer spoke to him in English sometimes.”

Yuuri rubbed his eye.  “I—Viktor.  Some dogs _can_ learn right and left, but it’s kind of unfair to expect them to be able to grasp those concepts in the split second before they do a jump.  Try pointing.”

Viktor tried pointing.  It worked.  But then:

“Yuuri,” Viktor trailed his hand down Yuuri’s forearm.  “I need your help again.  Since I’m not allowed to jump anymore, it takes too much time to stop and point like you showed me.  How can I be faster?”

Yuuri’s mouth was suddenly very dry, how strange.  “The...the, ah, the problem is that Makkachin is used to being right behind you.  So now that you’re not going over the jumps, you have to stop and direct him or he’ll follow you right past them.  The trick is to start using your body language to tell him where to go right away.  Like this.”

Yuuri jogged toward a jump, arm extended towards the side he wanted Vicchan to take.  She jumped and before she even hit the ground, he was looping around to another one, going around the back and waving his arm over it.  There was no stopping to point.  Vicchan was locked onto the motion of Yuuri’s arm like a homing missile.  Instead of jumping straight through from her side, Vicchan followed Yuuri around the back and jumped.  Viktor clapped.

“Always stay in front of your dog, but not so far ahead that they get lost.  If your body language is clear, Makkachin will know what to do.  It might help to think of it as a dance move?”

So Viktor danced.  And it worked.  But then:

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor tried to drape himself over Yuuri, but Yuuri neatly sidestepped away from both his idol and his impending heart attack.  Viktor’s pout deepened.  “You were right about the contacts.  Makkachin doesn’t want to step on them.  They’re his greatest weakness.”

Yuuri scratched his head.  They’d been trying to get Makkachin to run over the A-frame without bypassing the white contact zones for the past ten minutes.  Makkachin’s long stride made it especially easy for him to hop off too soon.  Yuuri had even tried using some of the most common hand gestures and commands he knew other handlers used, but Makkachin didn’t seem to understand.  It was a conundrum.  Yuuri ran a tongue along his lower lip, thinking hard.

“You really don’t remember how his trainer did it?”

Viktor started, eyes snapping up to meet Yuuri’s.  “Huh?”

Was he looking at Yuuri’s mouth?  He wet his lip again—it _was_ a little chapped.  Viktor suddenly laughed, cheeks oddly red.

“Haha, ah, sorry!  I can’t remember a thing!”

“Hm.  Can you try ‘wait’ or ‘stay’ again, but in Russian this time?”

Viktor did and Makkachin slowed down enough to walk off the ramp instead of jumping.  Standing with his back paws on the white contact zone, the poodle patiently awaited further instructions.  Yuuri was impressed by the dog’s professional concentration.

A concentration Viktor broke immediately by smothering him in proud daddy kisses.  Makkachin panted with excitement and chased his tail for a while.  With Makkachin in too playful a mood to practice, they opted to take a lunch break with Mari.

“You got piroshky!” Viktor exclaimed as she distributed the contents of her greasy bag.  Yuuri bit into his portion.  It was good.

“I got them from a stand outside,” Mari said around a mouthful of pastry.

Vicchan and Makkachin begged for scraps.  Mari took a rope from the suitcase and tossed it between them instead.  A tug-o-war ensued.  Or rather, one was attempted, but it was really just Makkachin pulling the smaller poodle around the empty lot.

Simultaneously, Viktor and Yuuri pulled out their phones for pictures.  

Mari snorted and said in Japanese, _“I thought it was weird for you to make a friend so fast.  But after watching you together, I think I get it.”_

“Huh?”

“ _He’s very forward, though, I didn’t think you’d like that.  But I guess it can’t be helped if it’s a perfect match.”_

_“Excuse me?”_

_“You finally found your dog dad soulmate.”_

_“My—what?  What does that even mean?”_

_“It means if you two got married, you’d open a dog café together in Shibuya.”_

Mari laughed at Yuuri’s flustered sputtering, making Viktor ask brightly, “What is it?  What did she say?”

“Just that _Vicchan_ seems to really like her _new_ _friend_ ,” she responded with a sly look at her brother’s reddening face.  “You might even say they make a cute couple.”

“Mari-nee!”

After lunch, practice resumed.  Progress was swift after the initial speed bumps, because while Viktor’s memory was suspect, his choreographer’s mind was as sharp as ever.  He picked up the unfamiliar gestures and routes easily.  By the end of their hour plus of intensive training, Yuuri felt confident that Viktor could at least survive round one.

While they packed up, Mari whispered, _“Hey, you know I was only teasing because you looked so comfortable, right?”_  

Yuuri must have shown his bewilderment, because she clarified, _“Around him, I mean.  You’ve never been this relaxed around a new person before.  I mean, you’re not even this easy-going with Yuuko and the others.”_

 _I’m easy-going?  Since when?_  

With surprise, he realized he hadn’t become a stammering mess around Viktor in at least an hour.  Said Russian was still carefully arranging props in Yuuri’s suitcase while Makkachin watched.  Yuuri considered him.

He was still Yuuri’s idol.  Still so beautiful to look at it hurt. 

But Yuuri had gotten so caught up in what they were doing he forgot to think about those things.  It helped that Viktor the man was turning out to be different from that distant and perfect idol of his dreams, Victor the skater.  He was real, within reach. 

_And the way he is with Makkachin.  It’s humanizing.  And...kinda cute._

_“You really like this handsome foreigner, huh?”_

Yuuri whipped back around, trying to seem like he hadn’t been staring.  “Eh?”

Mari wore a knowing smirk.  She reached out and poked him in the cheek, where he knew he had a slight dimple when he smiled. 

Oh.  When did he start smiling?  Why couldn’t he stop?

 

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

They arrived at the Standard Qualifiers a few minutes before the initial walkthrough.  Yuuri had a quick and frantic word with the officials before he returned to the others.

“What was that about?” Viktor asked.

“Nothing really!  I just had to clear up some stuff with my registration,” Yuuri hedged, staring resolutely ahead at the empty obstacle course.  “Sometimes that happens, you know.  What with language barriers.”

Viktor seemed to accept that, but Mari looked skeptical.  Before she could call him out, the buzzer went off announcing the start of the twenty minute walkthrough.

They left the dogs with her and entered the course with about ninety other people.  The audience was already packed, and children kneeled beside the barriers to get a better look.  The course wasn’t too complicated.  Twelve jumps, a dogwalk, A-frame, two tunnels, seesaw—your standard fare.  The five minute walkthrough began.  Yuuri found the sign card with the number 1—a jump—and started from there. 

Viktor stuck close to him.  His lips formed a straight line for once, his brows lowered in concentration.

Yuuri hid a smile and thought, _He really wants to win this for Makkachin.  I hope they win, too._

They walked around the course several times.  Some of the others were jogging or giving commands to an imaginary dog. 

One man was muttering to himself rapidly in French.  And sweating.  Yuuri did not make eye contact.

When they were back in their seats, Yuuri asked, “Do you think you can do it?”

Viktor ran a hand through his hair and released a long breath.  “There are a lot of rules to remember....  But!  Thanks to you, I think I’ll be okay.”  When he smiled, it wasn’t the confident grin of the podium or the sultry smirk of the Calvin Klein ad in Sheremetyevo.  His curved mouth was soft and timid and his eyes darted away and back again.  “You didn’t have to spend your entire morning helping me, but you did.  What would I have done if I’d never met you?  Thank you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat.  That shy smile felt like a gift, like a precious secret just between the two of them.

“You’re welcome.  Viktor.”

The first couple of competitors went by in a blur.

\--

To make things fair, dogs were put into different size classes: small, medium, and large.  As the dogs got bigger, the jumps got a little higher, and the times a little tighter.

Vicchan, a toy poodle, fit in the small class, and Makkachin was in the large.  The small group was always the most entertaining.  Chihuahuas, papillons, terriers, toy and miniature poodles—it was a parade of cuteness.  It was like watching stuffed animals race.  Loud, hyperactive stuffed animals.

Small dogs tended to be more unpredictable, too.  Easily excitable, it wasn’t uncommon for a pup to get distracted and start scampering all over the course or barking at everything in sight.

Unfortunately for Yuuri, Vicchan was a prime example of this.

Vicchan.  Poster pup for problem pooches.  Much like her namesake, she delighted in surprising the audience and Yuuri.  But not always in a good way.

She may have been one of the fastest dogs on the field, but she was also the dog with the shortest attention span and the biggest attitude.  Even though Yuuri never went _into_ the ring stressed, he usually left it feeling just as psychologically drained as he used to in competitive figure skating.  It was a constant battle to keep Vicchan’s attention on him rather than the big sounds and strange smells of the dog show.  (Sounds and smells were Vicchan’s favorites, right after food.)  And when Vicchan got distracted, she was liable to start chasing after the first thing that caught her eye and completely forget about her standing in the competition.

Whenever they _did_ lose an agility trial, Yuuri comforted himself in the knowledge that it was at least good entertainment.  Vicchan once ran straight out of the agility ring and into the stands.  It took twenty minutes to catch her.

Unlike her papa, Vicchan was a bit of a diva.  She loved attention almost more than treats.  Large crowds of people calling her name pretty much always gave her a case of the zoomies. 

The tunnels were her favorite as well.  (It went: attention>food>sounds>smells>tunnels.)  She’d take any opportunity to dive into one if Yuuri wasn’t careful.  One time Yuuri had sent Vicchan into a tunnel and she’d refused to come out of the other end, even after they were disqualified.  He’d had to lure her out with a bacon strip.

Luckily, when Vicchan stayed focused, she was uncatchable in the ring.  She was born for this.  She was the current world champion in small doggy agility and Yuuri intended to keep it that way.

The only way Yuuri could keep her on track was to stay in her line of sight and constantly make noise.  Which meant a lot of whistling, clapping, and shouting in mixed English and Japanese, all while running at top speed.  It was fairly embarrassing.  The stress of that brief experience didn’t come anywhere close to an anxiety attack and it couldn’t compare to the thrill of landing a quad sal, but he still felt like he deserved a bowl of katsudon after every trial.

Vicchan was one of the last to go in the smalls.  So Yuuri tried to just sit back, relax and enjoy the show like he usually did.  Enjoy the calm before the storm. 

(There was a scruffy little terrier on the field now.  It was making good time, until it stopped before a hurdle to scratch an itch.  After that, a miniature poodle got up on the dogwalk and stayed there for almost five minutes because she was too scared to come back down.) 

Normally the adorable antics of the competition was enough to keep Yuuri distracted until his turn came.  Except this time, Viktor was there.  And he kept whispering things in Yuuri’s ear like, “Look at those little legs—so cute, Yuuri!” And: “Another poodle!  Not as cute as Vicchan, though, Yuuri.”  And: “Oh no, that woman’s shoes are atrocious.  They’re a little like yours, actually.  But don’t worry, you make it work, Yuuri!”

Viktor seemed to enjoy the sound of Yuuri’s name.  Which.  Yuuri had no explanation for.  And—were they always sitting that close?

By the time Yuuri’s turn came, he was already a bundle of nerves, but for completely different reasons than usual.  He shakily walked his poodle into the ring to light applause.  As he removed Vicchan’s leash and tried to get her to lay down and stay, he heard Viktor shouting, “Yuuuuuuuuri!  _Davai!”_  

Yuuri didn’t want to know how red his face was.

Taking a deep breath, he got into position.  He was more keyed up than usual, but if he let Vicchan see that, there would be no controlling her.  He didn’t want a repeat of Crufts 2014. 

Vicchan was already eagerly inching forward on her belly no matter how much Yuuri told her to wait.  She yipped at Yuuri as he took his place beside the first obstacle.  _Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!_

And they went.  Yuuri sprinted like his life depended on it, sweeping his arms in the direction of every hurdle he led Vicchan to.  His voice was strong, clear, and tinged with panic.

“Vicchan!  _Oide!  Oide!  Oide!_ Jumpjumpjumpjump!  _Yoshi oide!_ JUMPJUMPJUMPJUMP!”

Vicchan flew over the hurdles like a brown blur, little legs scampering to catch up to Yuuri.

“Walk, Vicchan, walkwalkwalkwalk!”  Yuuri led Vicchan up the dogwalk.  She went up and over in a flash.  “ _MATTE!”_  She slowed down just enough to touch the white contact point.  “Okay!  Tunnel!”

Vicchan didn’t need to be told twice.  She barked the entire time she was in there.  Luckily she came out the other end this time, and as she did, Yuuri made a sweeping motion toward the weave poles.

“Weave!  Weave!  Weave!”  Yuuri encouraged, clapping at every word.

They say that when a dog starts to weave in and out of the line of poles, it sees each one as a different obstacle.  Vicchan barked at every pole, like she was surprised whenever there was a new one.  Adding that to the fact that, as a tiny dog, she had to hop her way through this part of the course, the display earned a big laugh from the crowd.  Vicchan’s head turned at the sound, but Yuuri brought her attention back by calling her name.  He meant to use the kind of baby-speak voice that he tended to adopt with her, but the higher pitch plus the frantic shouting only gave his voice an extra edge of hysteria.

“ _VICCHAN KOCHI~!_   _Oideoideoide!_  Tunnel!  _Oide!_ JUMP!  _OIDEoide!_ Overoveroveroever—MATTE! Yes!  One more, Vicchan—JUMP!”

They cleared the last hurdle to a roar of applause.  Vicchan ran around Yuuri in ecstatic circles as he braced himself against his knees and tried to catch his breath. 

The near-panic receded.  It was over.  No disasters.  No poop.  No crying children.  It was over.  Thank god.

 _If I’d had Vicchan with me in Detroit_ , he thought as he sucked precious air into his burning lungs, _I would’ve made it to the Olympics for sure.  I could’ve eaten ten hamburgers a day and still been in shape._

Vicchan yipped excitedly and jumped into Yuuri’s arms.  She squirmed, wanting to run some more.  Yuuri just pet her and showered her in praise as he reattached her leash and left the ring.  He nodded his head at the judge, who nodded back, clapping.

“Excellent run, as always,” the man said with only a slight Russian accent curling his words.

“Thank you,” Yuuri said politely.  He couldn’t remember, but he’d probably met the judge at another show or competed against him.  The dog show world was pretty small.

He checked his time.  34.2 seconds and no faults, a full second faster than the previous first place runners.  The crowd was chanting Vicchan’s name now and she expressed her joy by barking directly into Yuuri’s ear. 

As he carried her away, he belatedly realized that he’d just somewhat made a fool of himself in front of his idol.  Sighing heavily, he buried his red hot face in Vicchan’s fur and mentally prepared for the embarrassment. 

But it wasn’t necessary.  Viktor was giving him ridiculous doe eyes when he got back.  He and Mari both gave Vicchan congratulatory scratches while Viktor gushed praise for dog and owner. 

“You were beautiful out there, Yuuri!  Amazing!”

_Beautiful?_

Yuuri’s ears were burning, just like his lungs.  Mari didn’t even try to hide her snickering.

 

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

After a seemingly endless stream of lightning-quick border collies in the medium group (“Amazing!  They’re super-dogs, Yuuri!  Let’s go pet one!”), it was finally time to raise the jumps for the large dogs.

Yuuri wished Viktor and Makkachin good luck when their turn came.

“Don’t forget about the contact points—and the time limit!  I don’t think I even told you about the time limit—just don’t be too slow—but don’t be too fast either—and remember to pace yourself-“

Yuuri’s completely calm and collected spiel came to an abrupt end when Viktor took his hand and placed a kiss on his knuckles so light Yuuri might have imagined it.

_-ViktorNikiforovtouchedmewithhissoftlipslikevelvetpeaches-_

“Thanks for your advice,” the Russian murmured with a wink.  “I’ll make you proud, _coach._ ”

Yuuri absolutely did not squeak.

Nor did he blush when Mari snidely congratulated him on finally becoming a man.

 

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

Viktor was truly blessed, Yuuri thought as he watched him sprint by with Makkachin in tow.  Blessed with powerful thighs and a smart dog.

Viktor had come a long way in their short training session, though Yuuri picked up on some mistakes—gesturing too quickly or too late, or forgetting to say any command and just pointing at the obstacle with the expectation that Makkachin would just know what to do.  And amazingly, he did. 

Like Vicchan, Makkachin was an older dog, so Yuuri had worried that he’d have trouble keeping up on the big course.  But unlike Vicchan, Makkachin was the calmest, most focused poodle Yuuri had ever seen.  So while Yuuri’d had to turn himself into a one man band to keep _his_ dog’s attention, Makkachin seemed to understand and follow every instruction his master gave, no matter how vague or inconsistent.

And it was a good thing Makkachin wasn’t easily distracted because the crowd was going wild.  It wasn’t every day you saw a poodle give the border collies a run for their money.  He bounded through the course with ease.  His cuteness could put even the small dogs to shame.  Tongue lolling, ears bouncing, tail wagging—the audience was in love at first borf.   A laugh rose up in the crowd as Makkachin delicately skipped and pranced his way along the weave poles.  (Yuuri took lots of pictures on Viktor’s phone.)

Makkachin was also surprisingly graceful.  His long limbs and fluffy coat made him resemble both a stallion and a lamb.  His jumps were high and effortless, just like his owner’s, and his long stride made him ridiculously quick. 

This was not necessarily a good thing.  A dog that was too fast could outrun the handler.  Dogs generally didn’t wait for their human to catch up and tell them where to go next, especially if they see a fun obstacle in front of them.  And taking an obstacle out of order meant elimination.

But Viktor’s second blessing—his skater’s legs—meant that he was probably the most physically fit human in this competition.  (Yuuri still trained, but not at the pro level, not for years.)  Being in shape was a huge advantage for doggy agility, and was probably the main reason Yuuri was the reigning champion of the small group.  Too many promising dog lovers ended up tasting defeat in the end because they had to stop for a breather, or tripped on a loose shoelace.  Already, one poor woman had faceplanted quite spectacularly while her beagle was in the tunnel.  It came out and jumped over her fallen form like it was another hurdle.

Viktor’s long legs ate up the distance between obstacles more quickly now that he was running instead of leaping through the course like a danseur.  His turns were also sharper and cleaner than an average person’s, and all this would save him those precious seconds he needed to progress to the next round.

Towards the end of the run, however, Yuuri noticed Viktor’s seriousness running out.  Inevitably, he seemed to forget the correct gestures and commands altogether and was happily cooing at Makkachin while wildly pointing at where he needed to go next, exploding in praise and baby talk after every correct move.  Makkachin was some kind of genius dog, because he still didn’t make a single mistake.

When Makkachin cleared the final hurdle, he bounded straight into Viktor’s waiting arms. 

Viktor was crying actual tears of joy.  Makkachin licked his face. 

The crowd went wild.  People who remembered them from this morning started chanting Makkachin’s name again.  Viktor led Makkachin on a victory lap that lasted until the officials sternly kicked him out of the ring because they had to make way for the next person.

Yuuri checked the leader board with a sigh of relief.  Somehow they’d made it to the end with a decent time and no penalties.  Not top ten, Yuuri guessed, but probably top twenty if they were lucky.  Twenty was all you needed to move onto the semifinals.

Mari’s voice interrupted his musings.  “ _So_.  Viktor _Nikiforov_ , huh?”

 _Crap._ “How did you...?”

Mari blinked at him.  Pointed at the scoreboard.  Oh. 

VIKTOR NIKIFOROV & MAKKACHIN shone in red LEDs before blinking out of existence to display the next name, NATALIA GUZMAN & WALLY AKA THE FLASH.  Yuuri pretended to be very interested in the blonde woman and collie mix that were taking to the field.  (The woman was cosplaying a character Yuuri remembered from Nishigori’s X-Men comics.  Quip-singer?  Yuuri was sure this had to be against some kind of rule.)

“If I recall,” his sister drawled, “wasn’t Nikiforov the name of the guy on all your posters?  Who you named Vicchan after?”

Yuuri hid his face.  “Yes...”

Mari let out a squawk of laughter.  “Is that why Vicchan keeps barking when you say Viktor?”  To prove her point, Vicchan popped her head up from Yuuri’s lap, looking at Mari expectantly.  She chortled.  Yuuri sighed.  Let her get it out of her system before Viktor came back.  Luckily he seemed to have been side tracked by some little girls who wanted to pet Makkachin.

“I can’t believe it.  I leave you alone for a few minutes and you manage to meet the guy you’ve had a crush on since you were twelve.”

“I didn’t have a crush!”

“....”

“I respected him as an athlete.”

“Yuuri, you cried for days just because he got a haircut.”

_JUST a haircut?  The loss of Viktor’s long hair was a tragedy—the end of an era—I was in mourning.  I wore black for a week-_

Yuuri sighed.  “I see your point.”

“It’s funny.  From the way you talk about him and how he looks in your posters, I expected him to be...different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought he’d be, I don’t know, cooler?”

Yuuri frowned.  “Viktor _is_ cool.”

Mari raised an eyebrow.  “Earlier when you told him he couldn’t hug his dog after every jump, I thought he was going to cry.”

“...So he’s a little dramatic.  I was...surprised by that, too.  But that just makes him a better performer.”

“Aw, Yuuri-chan is so kind.”

_“Nee-san!”_

“So what’s he doing _here_? Isn’t he supposed to be a big important skater?”

Yuuri shrugged.  “It’s the off season and...I think maybe he’s...bored?”

“He looks like he’s having fun now, though.”

Viktor was still mingling with the crowd, posing for pictures.  He raised one of Makkachin’s paws in one hand and made a peace sign with the other.  Yuuri thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen.

Mari poked his cheek again.  “Yuuri.  Go easy hm?”  _Don’t fall too hard for a person you just met._

Yuuri nodded.  By the time Viktor returned with Makkachin, Yuuri managed to wrestle his sappy smile into something milder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's a good dog? Who's a good dog?? TRICK QUESTION. They are ALL good dogs.
> 
> Sorry for the onslaught of exposition and dog show rules, but at least that's out of the way now and Viktor and Yuuri can spend a little quality time together before the semifinals. :D
> 
> Japanese:  
>  _oide_ = "come"  
>  _matte_ = "wait"  
>  _yoshi_ = "good/alright/okay"  
>  _kochi_ = "here"
> 
> **LINKS**
> 
> Because these are the best parts of dog shows, here are the kinds of antics and mishaps Vicchan and other dogs like her would be getting up to: [**[1]**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmDsAyfQdLw) [**[2--the poodle @ 10:40]**](https://youtu.be/JFObsrhcS2k?t=10m40s) [**[3]**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQwcCaAAuRc)
> 
> [**[This]**](https://youtu.be/tyY_INBEHiQ?t=1m28s) is my reference for Vicchan smallness.  
> [ **[Here's another toy poodle]**](https://youtu.be/kTeUD9AZ01E?t=10m56s) this time it's got the speed and energy I'm imagining for Vicchan. (I also recommend watching the last dog in that video, it's so cute)  
> [ **[This is the best]**](https://youtu.be/AS91cRSgGgg?list=PLB4I5ujdr7wEUIuAPwoc4dqyqShNS-1aw) because it's basically Vicchan's personality with Makkachin's size and grace lol That video is in a playlist I put together of poodles doing agility, so if you're like me and just want to watch dogs all the time, you can check that out.
> 
> Also, sarting today (08/10/17) for the next three days the International Agility Festival is [**[livestreaming on the Crufts YT channel]**](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCqEobfdxKqbf7X-cUh9Ul0Q), in case you're interested in seeing one of these things live. I've been subscribed to dog agility channels ever since I started writing this ahahahaha this is a cry for help


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM VERY SORRY. I don't have much of an excuse. I just had one of those long periods where I hated every word that came out of me and on top of having to drop everything to work on personal projects for a few weeks...this is Very Late.
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to people still reading and commenting. It really makes me so happy, thank you, I'm going to try to be faster ahhhhhh-
> 
> I felt so bad about how long this took that I made some illustrations for this chapter. Which only made it come out later, so maybe that was poorly planned, but I hope you like it. :)
> 
> P.S. I'm confused about whether or not to capitalize dog breed names. For consistency's sake I'm going with lower case unless it's derived from the name of a place (Dalmatian, Scottish terrier, etc.). Let me know if this is too wrong to let stand.
> 
> P.P.S. Some innuendo in this chapter fyi so I'm changing the rating to T just to be safe
> 
> EDIT: The skin I was using for the text conversation wasn't working on mobile so I'm taking it off for now and hopefully I can figure out how to fix it later ><

The next round wasn’t for some time, and after sitting through a dizzying hour of watching dogs run in circles, Yuuri, Mari, and Viktor were eager for a change of pace.  That meant one thing: shopping.  

In Yuuri’s experience, dog shows were always impressive but the FCI was really pulling out all the stops this year.  The largest hall in the building was packed wall to wall with booths peddling puppy paraphernalia.  Dog food, dog toys, dog shampoo, dog tags _shaped_ like dogs...

Viktor's fluency in Russian made him an invaluable asset.  Most vendors spoke limited English, but they brightened up at the sound of their mother tongue.  Because of this, Mari scored a discount on a pair of bone-shaped studs she found at a jewelry stand.  Behind Viktor’s back, she gave Yuuri a thumbs up and an approving nod, as if to say, _I give you my blessing, brother.  This one will do._  Yuuri ignored her.

Vicchan and Makkachin did some browsing, too.  They sampled unusual treats, played with some toys and completely ignored others.  Tug toys were Vicchan's kryptonite, while Makkachin's heart lay with the plushies.  It was agreed upon by all, though, that squeakers were the absolute best.  Their humans dutifully collected bags of free samples of the best quality dog food and secretly bought some of the toys and treats they seemed to like (quickly hiding them in Mari’s backpack).

As they walked the hall, they stopped every now and then to let Vicchan and Makkachin sniff butts and make friends.  They could hardly go a few meters before encountering an interesting new puppy friend, ranging from enormous dogs that came up to Yuuri's chest, to the teeniest lapdogs enjoying a relaxing ride in their strollers.  

This was one of the main reasons (besides prize money and exercise) Yuuri always went to these shows.  Vicchan didn’t have many other dog friends back home in their little town.  Yuuri tried his best to find dogs for Vicchan to play with at their town's park, but it seemed Hasetsu was home to all the cat people of Japan.  And the shiba inu from three streets over was a total snob.  It was good to see Vicchan socializing.

Yuuri himself rarely did any socializing with people outside of the agility circuit, especially when they were in a foreign country.  Even in an English speaking countries he would pretend not to understand—he _really_ hated small talk.  But that was fine.  This was all for Vicchan, after all.  Although.  He _did_ somewhat envy the way Viktor and Mari made easy conversation with the humans attached to the doggo friends.  Just a little.

To cover the fact that he was awkwardly waiting on the sidelines while Viktor and his sister engaged the owner of a very friendly husky in conversation, he busied himself with his phone.  He didn’t know how to get internet outside of his hotel, so he could only check his texts.  He was surprised to see he had 18 missed texts.  It was an old roommate from his brief stint in Detroit. 

 **pichuu~** **☆** **:**  
Good luck at the doggie Olympics today!!!  
Give Vicchan my goddogdaughter twenty good luck kisses for me!  
(*¯ ³¯*)♡  
  
YUURI!!!!!  
OMGOMGOMG  
HAVE YOU SEEN INSTA?!?!  
ofc u haven’t who am I talking to even  
  
HO ANSWER MY TEXTS  
I THINK VIKTOR NIKIFOROV IS AT THE SAME DOG CONVENTION U @ SON  
  
HE KEEPS POSTING PICTURES OF HIS POODLE WITH #worlddogshow2016 THATS UR THING RIGHT???  
  
omg what if you meet him and fall in love at first sight  
what if your dogs tangle up your legs with their leashes like in 101 dalmations  
  
hey remember when you got drunk that one time and I caught you making out with a poster?  
  
Yuuuuuuuuri this is your chance find your man  
  
Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuriiiiiiiiiiiiiiii  
  
(」°ロ°)」  
  
srsly r u gonna finally tap that or what

Blushing to his roots, Yuuri rushed to reply.

 **me:**  
PHICHIT NO  
And shouldn’t you be at practice?

 **pichuu~** **☆** **:**  
YUURI YOU HEARD MY CRY  
I can skate and text at the same time its like u dont even know me anymore  
smh  
and I’m just telling it like it is, boi  
I can’t count the times you’ve drunk texted me about how your greatest regret is never getting to meet viktor

 **me:**  
It wasn’t that many times!  
We agreed not to speak of this.

 **pichuu~** **☆** **:**  
we also agreed not to mention the poster thing, but here we are  
(ง ื▿ ื)ว

 **me:**  
(* ᄑ_ᄑ)

 **pichuu~** **☆** **:**  
(„ಡωಡ„)

 **me:  
** (# ≖﹏﹏≖)

 **pichuu~** **☆** **:  
** btw I thought you’d be idk freaking out a lot more about viknik being in the same building as you

(y is typing…)  
(y is typing…)

 **pichuu~** **☆** **:  
**...?

(y is typing...)

 **me:  
** lol yea

 **pichuu~** **☆** **:**  
????  
OMG  
you sly dog YOU MET HIM DIDNT U?!

 **me:**  
Um.  
┐(￣∀￣)┌

 **pichuu~** **☆** **:  
**!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Who are you texting?” Viktor wandered over, a curious smile on his lips. 

Yuuri very nonchalantly pulled the phone to his chest to hide the screen, and said with so much nonchalance, “Nobody!  Just a friend!  We're only talking about dogs!”

“O...kay.  Well, when you’re done do you want to go watch the husky judging?  Svetlana and Knopka are competing!”

“Yeah, sure, sure, that sounds fun, let’s go!”

 **me:**  
gtg  
Call later? ヾ( ￣∀￣;)

 **pichuu~** **☆** **:**    
WAIT no u katsuDON’T!  
I need DEEEEETS  
omgggggggg is he there now????   
ლ(◎д◎"ლ)  
are you with him???  
are u gonna make out??  
YUUUURIIII  
tell him about your body pillow!

Yuuri turned off his phone.  International texting was expensive after all.

 

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

The Best of Breed judging took up an entire floor of the convention center.  Each judging ring came in the form of a cordoned off square of bright blue carpet.  Evenly spaced within the enormous hall were dozens upon dozens of these squares, some swarmed by spectators and some empty.  Yuuri, Mari, and Viktor shuffled their way through the maze until they found the husky ring.

There were almost as many dogs as humans.  It seemed everywhere that Yuuri looked, he could see another Siberian husky.

“Which do you prefer, Yuuri?  Brown eyes or blue?” Viktor asked.

“Blue, I think.”

“Really?  Personally, I think brown eyes are best.”

Yuuri didn’t know what to make of the wink Viktor was giving him but he felt like there was some sort of joke he was missing.  Mari rolled _her_ eyes and abandoned him to pet some dogs.  Yuuri scratched his head.  “Well, there’s always heterochromia.”

Viktor blinked. “Excuse me?”

Yuuri pointed out a dog with one blue eye and one brown.  “Like that.”  Yuuri’s eyes trailed up from the dog sprawled leisurely on the floor to the man standing behind it.  “Oh…!”

 _Oh!_ was about all Yuuri could say about the bizarre image made by Lee Seung Gil, former competitor and currently the best men’s singles skater in South Korea, staring at him across a sea of dogs, wearing a three piece suit made entirely of denim.

_He’s here, too??  How many figure skaters are at this dog show?_

Seung Gil’s cold brown eyes met his.  Yuuri tried not to wilt under the scrutiny.  Unable to pretend they hadn't seen each other, he lifted a hand in an awkward wave.  He and Seung Gil weren't exactly friends.  Which is why he wasn't expecting the other to begin walking towards them, odd-eyed husky following the gentle tug of its lead.

Victor followed Yuuri’s wide-eyed stare.  “Hm.  That man coming this way in the horrible suit seems to be staring at us quite intensely.  He looks awfully familiar....”

“Er...”

Seung Gil and dog came to a stop in front of them.  The husky settled herself gracefully at his heel.  “Hello, Katsuki,” he nodded at Yuuri first, then his companion.  “Viktor.”

Viktor’s eyebrows shot up.  “Do we know each other?”

Seung Gil’s eyes narrowed very slightly.  “We’ve met in competition before.”

“Of course!” Viktor snapped his fingers, eyes widening.  “I thought I recognized you!  You’re Korea’s representative… Oh, don’t tell me.  I know it.”

They waited but it rapidly became apparent that Viktor did _not_ , in fact, know it.

“Seung Gil Lee,” said Seung Gil Lee.

Viktor stuck out a hand.  “Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Yes, I know."  Seung Gil quirked an eyebrow.  "We’ve been through this before.”

Viktor’s cheeks were softly pink at his own faux pas.  Adorable.  “Really?  Wow!  Haha I’m sorry, I have a terrible memory sometimes.”

Seung Gil shook his head like he wasn’t bothered, though Yuuri would’ve cried if the same thing had happened to him.

“Katsuki.  This is a surprise,” Seung Gil said with zero inflection. _You don’t_ look _surprised_ , Yuuri thought. “The odds of meeting the both of you here in Russia at this dog show are incredibly slim.”

Yuuri shrugged.  “I’m here doing agility with my poodle.  We actually go to these shows often.”

“So it was just a matter of time, then.  I’ve been showing Gongju since she was a puppy.  This is our first international event, however.”

Yuuri hummed in surprise.  “You must have an impressive record if you were invited here then.”

“Same to you.”

Victor looked between Seung Gil and Yuuri with interest.  “So you two know each other?”

“Obviously we do, we were both-”

“Seung Gil!” Yuuri shouted, remembering _at that moment_  the web of lies he’d been spinning all day.  Not a skater.  Not even a fan of skating.  Definitely not the late bloomer from Japan who retired before accomplishing anything and now, instead of training for the Grand Prix, spends all of his time with a dog he named after the current World Champion.

Yuuri scrambled for a recover.

“I just remembered that…I have something to tell you, Seung Gil—ah—in private.  We’ll be right back—watch the dogs?”  Yuuri blurted this at a bewildered Viktor, leaving him with the three dogs.

Yuuri pulled Seung Gil out of earshot.  When he was sure Viktor could neither hear them nor read their lips, Yuuri half-bowed, half-flailed in apology.  If Phichit had been there he would have called it a "dab."  

“I’m sorry for dragging you over here!  I just—I need to ask you something.  This is awkward.”

Seung Gil’s eyes widened a fraction, which people who could read him knew meant alarm.  Yuuri happened to be one of those people.  Friends they weren't, but you didn't share the role of Shang in the Tokyo Disney Ice Show for a summer without forming some connection.  And they had a mutual friend in Phichit, so Yuuri felt like he understood him.  Usually.

“What are you _wearing_?” was what came out of Yuuri’s mouth first.  In his defense, the question had been building up for a while.

Seung Gil looked down at his outfit, made from the remains of about twenty pairs of blue jeans probably.  “It’s a suit."

“I know it’s a suit.  But why-" _on earth would you walk out of the house like this?_ "-why  _this_ suit in particular?”

“It was the most appropriate for this occasion."  Seung Gil smoothed down the front of his crime against fashion.  "Blue is the official color of the Moscow World Dog Show.  I picked a suit because anything else would be disrespectful at this level of competition.  On the other hand, I wanted to wear casual clothes because I will be shopping later and doing some sight seeing.  It makes little sense to change in between events, so I found a middle ground.  Therefore, denim.”

_Therefore, denim._

“Right...”

“Was that what you dragged me over here to ask me?”

Yuuri shook his head to clear it—this was no time to be talking fashion.  “No.  I wanted to ask for a favor.  It might seem weird.”

“What sort of favor?”

“Well, this is embarrassing but Viktor doesn’t exactly know who I am.”

“So?  He didn’t know who I was.”

“No.  I mean.  I told him I barely know anything about skating.”

The slant of Seung Gil’s eyebrows said, _I am feeling confused._ “Why?”

 _Because I don't want him to see me as the loser I am._ “It was easier that way?”  The eyebrows didn’t budge.  “I just don’t want him to know.  For my own reasons.  So I was hoping you would...”

“Lie for you?”

Yuuri sighed.  “I know it’s awkward, and you don’t have to-”

But Seung Gil was already nodding.  “I’ll do it.  I still don’t see the point, but I’ll keep your cover.”  Yuuri sighed in relief, but Seung Gil held up a finger.  “On one condition.  I want a favor in return.”

Yuuri nodded.  “What is it?”

“My PCS are terrible,” Seung Gil said, blunt as always.  “No matter how much I raise my TES, I’ll never reach the top without a stronger performance component.  If you help me with that, I’ll help you save face with Nikiforov.”

“You want _my_ help?” Yuuri asked, unsure.  “I quit skating years ago and you just won bronze at Four Continents.  What could _I_ do to help _you_?”

Seung Gil’s eyebrows _and_ nostrils were working together to say, _Are you serious right now?_  “Are you saying you won’t do it?”

“No, I will—if you’re sure that’s what you want.”  They finalized the deal with a handshake. “Thanks, Seung Gil.”

When they returned, Viktor’s eyes darted between them and his voice was uncertain.  “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine!  I can’t believe I just left you with the dogs like that, I’m so sorry,” Yuuri rushed to apologize.  Was Viktor mad?  Why was he looking at him so strangely?

Viktor merely waved his apologies away and nearly blinded Yuuri with his most charming smile.  “I don’t mind.  You seemed to be having a very serious conversation just now, so I wanted to make sure nothing was wrong.  So!  How do you know Seung Gil, Yuuri?”

“Uh...” Yuuri’s mind was a blank.  Panicked, he looked to Seung Gil for rescue.

“We met at the Junior Grand Prix event in Courchevel.”

 _More_ panicked, Yuuri looked at Seung Gil _harder_.  Seung Gil made a soft 'oh' sound, as if he’d only just realized that this is where the lying began.

“Of course,” Seung Gil continued smoothly—or as smoothly as you could while operating on a base level of robotic stiffness, “Katsuki wasn’t skating.  I was.  In the JGP.  Which you clearly know about because you’re a figure skater, too.”

Viktor’s brow wrinkled.  “Yes, of course.  I'm sorry--why was Yuuri there, again?”

Yuuri was about to step in with the obvious answer of _I was on vacation_  when Seung Gil steamrolled ahead, saying, “He came to see me skate.  He’s my fan.”

“Your fan.  I see.”  Viktor’s smile stiffened.  “You must have been a _passionate_ fan, Yuuri, to have travelled all the way to a _ski resort_ in _France_ just to see your favorite skater!  It’s almost romantic.”

Yuuri laughed and if it was a little shrill he hoped Viktor didn’t notice.  “That’s an exaggeration!  Like I said before, I’m not that into figure skating.”

“Katsuki is just being shy,” Seung Gil said, completely ignoring Yuuri telepathically screaming at him.  It seemed now that Seung Gil had landed on a lie, he was fully committed to it.  “We met because he cheered the loudest for me when I finished my program.  I looked into the crowd and saw a sign with my name on it.  It was Katsuki.  Katsuki was holding the sign,” he nodded to himself, so obviously coming up with the story on the spot that Yuuri couldn’t believe Viktor was buying it.  “After the award ceremony, he gave me flowers and confessed his admiration for me.”

Yuuri wanted to _die_.

Viktor’s smile was more a painful stretching of lips than anything.  “Is that so, Yuuri?”  Trapped in a lie that was spiraling out of control, Yuuri could only nod.  ”What a lovely story.  You know, Yuuri and I just met this morning, but we've been inseparable ever since!  I'll never forget our first meeting.  He appeared out of nowhere to rescue my dog.  It was like fate.”

Seung Gil nodded absently.  “I believe Katsuki and I were destined to meet, as well.”

“Nee-san!” Yuuri frantically called for his sister, who came over to them with a bemused look on her face.  “Seung Gil, this is my sister, Mari.  Mari, this is Seung Gil and his dog...”

“Gongju.”

“His dog Gongju!  They’re competing today.  Look, aren’t Gongju’s eyes pretty?”

Oblivious to the awkward tension, Mari exclaimed, “Hey they’re different colors.  I’ve only seen that in cats before, that’s pretty cool.”  Eyes lighting up (but face otherwise remaining expressionless), Seung Gil latched onto what was clearly his favorite topic and methodically informed them all about Gongju’s eyes, her glossy coat, her diet, her perfect paws, her perfect ears, her catlike preference for hiding in boxes, her...

When Seung Gil was finally called away to line up for judging, Yuuri slouched in relief.

On the blue carpet, huskies and owners began an ordered procession around the perimeter of the ring, showing off the dogs’ posture and gait.  Seung Gil was both easy and difficult to spot.  The blue color of his suit made him unique, but it also had an unfortunate camouflaging effect with the carpet.  Gongju looked good at least.

Yuuri thought he recognized the woman they’d met earlier—Svetlana?—with her white husky bringing up the rear.  After a parade of the most poised dogs Yuuri had ever seen, individual judging began.  The judge, an elderly man with white cotton candy hair, was very handsy.  Gongju withstood his examination with regal composure, letting him check her teeth, feel her muscles, and pat down her butt.  She held her head high as she trotted back and forth across the ring with Seung Gil.  

Viktor had been oddly quiet since the start of the judging.  He finally cleared his throat to break the silence, looking uncertain.

“Seung Gil seems nice,” Viktor said in a tone that might have been casual if he hadn't twirled Makkachin's leash so tightly around his hand that Yuuri feared for the circulation in his fingers.

“Yeah,” Yuuri agreed, not sure where this was going.

“And handsome.”

“Sure.”

“And clothes don’t _really_ make a man.”

“That’s true.”

“His hair is very thick and healthy.”

“I guess?”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Yuuri spluttered. “What?!”  The question was asked with forced nonchalance and Viktor refused to meet his eye.  “No!  No, we’re not—not like _that._  Where did you get that idea?”

Something like hope glinted in Viktor's eyes when he glanced at Yuuri and shrugged.  His ears were red.  “He spoke so passionately about you and then you got so flustered.  And I saw you holding hands so I just assumed...”

“Holding—what?  We weren’t.  We’re barely even friends.”  Viktor still looked doubtful, but at least he was meeting Yuuri’s eyes.  “This is the first time I’ve seen him in years, I swear.”

“I see.”  A soft gasp, then Viktor’s features melted into a sympathetic wince.  “It must be hard, seeing him now after so long.”

“Uh, okay.”   _Right, I’m supposed to be a super fan._

“So when you told me you didn’t follow figure skating...?”

It was Yuuri’s turn to avert his eyes.  “I, er, I used to.  Apparently.  But I, um, I don’t really like to talk about that part of my life.”

Viktor nodded in understanding.  “You want to move on.  He’s your past.”

“Sure.”  Yuuri fidgeted under Viktor’s sympathetic regard.  Now it was Viktor’s attention that was making _him_ uncomfortable.

Charmingly hesitant, Viktor smiled and asked, “So you’re single?”

For the hundreth time that day Yuuri blushed.  “Yes?”

Viktor released a breathy laugh.  “It seems we belong to the same lonely hearts club, then.”  Despite his words, his voice was warm.

“I don’t feel lonely at all,” Yuuri said honestly.

Viktor’s expression was fond.  “Neither do I today.”

 

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

Gongju won second place and after some awkward congratulations and goodbyes, Yuuri’s group hurried back to the agility ring for the semifinals.  Of the sixty owner/pet pairs that remained, only twenty-four would advance to the finals.  The course was different from the first round, naturally, the obstacles moved and the order rearranged.  Their walkthrough began just as before.  Yuuri quietly shared tips with Viktor as they learned the lay of the land.  Just like last time, Yuuri was impressed by Viktor's quick mind and intense focus.  And yet after ten minutes or so, his attention seemed to wander.

Yuuri almost jumped when he first noticed Viktor staring.  The weird mood from earlier had dissipated and if anything, Viktor seemed to be even more friendly with him.  If Yuuri didn’t know better, he would think he was being flirted with.  

“Viktor?  Shouldn’t you be memorizing the...” Yuuri waved awkwardly at their surroundings.

Viktor’s eyes were steady on him.  “Mm...I think I’ve got it.  And you, Yuuri?”

“Yeah I’ve got it, too.”

Viktor made a noise of approval, a rumbling hum that went straight to Yuuri's...ego.  “You’re an expert.”

Yuuri flushed and shook his head.  “This sort of thing is easy to pick up.  It’s like choreography.”

A delighted smile spread across Viktor’s face.  “Oh, Yuuri, do you dance?”

“A...little.”

“I’m not surprised.  In the last round, I noticed you were very graceful...” Viktor’s head tilted artfully, allowing him to peer at Yuuri from under long silver lashes, “...and _limber_.”

Yuuri choked on his own sinful thoughts.  The sudden coughing fit turned heads his way.  One blue-haired, elderly woman in a zebra print tracksuit asked, in Russian, if he wanted a lozenge.  Viktor translated.  Yuuri politely declined.  Though he feigned concern, he could swear he saw Viktor's lips twitch.

“Are you alright, Yuuri?”

“Fine!”  Yuuri coughed, face flaming.

“Well if you’re sure...”

They kept a leisurely pace.  Yuuri spotted the same mumbling Frenchman from the previous round.  This time he was wearing sweatbands.  Yuuri approved of the function, if not the fashion.

“What kind of dancing do you do, Yuuri?”

“Ballet mostly.  But I’m not that good,” he hurried to add.

Viktor looked genuinely impressed.  “That's amazing.  You know I trained in ballet when I was younger.  It was one of the most difficult things I've ever done.”

“Was it for skating?” Yuuri asked, feeling like a fraud.

“Mmhm.”

Yuuri couldn't help himself.  He had to know.  “Come to think of it, you never said.  Why aren’t you training right now?”  Viktor raised his brows in askance.  “Even if it’s the off season, isn’t it getting pretty close to competition time?  It’s practically July... ”

They weaved between the hurdles as they walked, but Yuuri’s attention was on Viktor’s wistful expression.

“You’re right.  I’d normally be in the thick of it right now.  To tell the truth, days off like this have become rare for me lately.”  Viktor’s gaze slid into the middle distance.  “But I thought perhaps it was time for a little break in routine.”

Before Yuuri could analyze the note of melancholy in his voice, the buzzer sounded the end of the walkthrough.

 

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

This time around the large group went first.  Everything was fine until an excitable Doberman knocked over a hurdle pole and decided that it would be much more fun to play keepaway with his owner, running around the ring with the pole in his slobbery mouth.  After that, a mood came over the large dogs like a hyperactive fog.  With all the noise and barking, the dogs became less and less willing to listen to their humans.  Their humans, who wanted them to do silly things like _wait_ or _slow down_ or _don’t jump up on the judge._

By the time it was Makkachin and Viktor’s turn, Yuuri was worried.  There were twenty large dogs competing in this round.  Only the top eight would make the finals.  And Makkachin, who was normally so mellow, was currently bouncing on his front paws at the starting line, tail wagging like mad and barking at everything.

Yuuri thought it would be a problem when Viktor had to fight for Makkachin’s attention at the beginning of their run.  A dog in the audience barked and Makkachin’s head snapped towards the sound, ears perking.  But Viktor didn't allow her to stay distracted for long, ruffling said ears and smooshing Makkachin's cheeks until he looked at him.  

Walking backwards to get a head start, Viktor kept Makkachin's attention on him in the dorkiest way possible.  He did a little dance and slapped his thighs. He made ridiculous sounds and shouted something Yuuri couldn't understand but had the crowd laughing.  Yuuri couldn't help but laugh with them.  Makkachin barked with delight, front body lowered, butt wiggling in anticipation.  Viktor cooed some command in Russian...and they were off, tearing into the course like a tornado of silver and brown.

In the end, they made magnificent time.  Unfortunately, Makkachin had been going so fast that he managed to overtake Viktor on the dog walk and missed the contact as a consequence.  They would get a penalty.  Regardless, they returned amidst deafening cheers from the crowd.  Makkachin was quickly gaining a fanbase.

“Good job,” Mari praised and scratched Makkachin’s chin.  Vicchan squirmed in her arms to sniff her friend in congratulations.

“You did great,” Yuuri told Viktor, who collapsed with a breathless laugh into the seat beside him.

Out of breath and flushed, Viktor was absolutely stunning.  Yuuri tried not to stare too obviously at the patch of sweat-shiny skin revealed by his unbuttoned collar.  “Thanks.  We got five faults, though.”

“You’ve still got a chance.  You’re in sixth and there are only a few dogs left.”  Viktor nodded.  Makkachin came over and lay his head on Viktor’s lap.  Viktor practically assaulted him with good job pets and Yuuri joined in with a chuckle.  Makkachin’s eyes closed and he melted under the attention.

“This is strange.  When I finish a program, my skating coach usually has a list of criticisms for me so long that he's still going when we board the airplane.  I almost miss it.”  Viktor raised an eyebrow at Yuuri, who smiled playfully in return.

“Well if that’s what you want—your corners could be tighter, your blind cross is sloppy, and you got tired too quickly and let him get past you so I think maybe you should do some strength training.”

Viktor huffed.  “Are you trying to imply that I’m out of shape?”

“No.  Just that you need to work on your stamina.”

“How cruel!  Makkachin, did you hear that?”  Makkachin, who was still enjoying his pets, responded by opening his mouth enough for his tongue to hang out.  Viktor’s voice lowered to a pleasant purr that had Yuuri leaning in closer to hear it better.  "You're so mean to me, Yuuri.  You should tell me something nice, too, or my ego will be shattered."

 _Something nice?_  "You made really good time."

An exaggerated pout made Viktor's lips even more plush and appealing.  Was he wearing lip gloss?  "I don't know if I like being remembered for being a quick finisher, Yuuri."

Surely Yuuri's face was achieving new shades of crimson.  He wasn't completely obtuse.  He knew Viktor was best friends with Christophe, who had taught Yuuri several words in French and English that he'd never volunteered to learn.  The heavy note of implication made Yuuri's heart pound.  Viktor was close with Chris.  This must be how Viktor spoke with friends.  Friends.  With Viktor.  Yuuri wanted that.

Yuuri could do this.  He could do friendly banter.  About sex.  He'd gone to college in America.

"Well what would you prefer to be remembered for?" he asked, trying for sly but probably landing somewhere closer to creepy.

In spite of Yuuri's weak attempt, the curl of Viktor's mouth was pleased.  He fluttered his lashes.  "For being the best, of course.  I love being at the top.  But I like to change things up from time to time.  What about you, Yuuri?  Do you prefer to be at the top of the podium?"

Yuuri valiantly did not choke.  "I suppose it depends on who I'm...competing with."

"Good point.  Medals aren't important, anyway," said the man who could wallpaper his bathroom in medals.  "What really matters is performance.  How have I performed so far, coach?"

"You, uh, you're a fast learner.  It helps that you're so flexible and you've got strong quads."  Yuuri was the least sexy person on the planet.  The American education system had failed him.

Viktor raised his eyebrows.  "Were you paying close attention to my thighs?"  Viktor slowly crossed his legs, said thighs flexing against the soft material of his pants.

"They're definitely an asset," Yuuri said with complete honestly.

"Thank you," Viktor winked.  "I could say the same to you.  You do ballet.  You must be very flexible yourself."

"I'm more limber than most."  It was true.  He cast about for something Chris-like to say.  "I know how to pole dance."

Viktor coughed, his eyes wide.  He hastily wiped the stunned look from his face and replaced it with a smolder.  "You'll have to take me dancing sometime so I can see that for myself.  I've always wanted to learn."

The image of Viktor twirling half-dressed on a pole short circuited Yuuri's brain for a moment.  Banter.  He needed to banter.  Like friends do.  "Can you keep up though?  It's harder than it looks and you seem to tire quickly."

“You should know, Yuuri, that what I lack in stamina I make up for in technique.”

Yuuri licked his lips in a daze.  “That’s good.  But athletes should strive to correct what they're lacking.  Lucky for you, I’m known for my stamina.”  Yuuri couldn’t believe his own boldness.

Viktor’s eyelids lowered.  “Oh?  And why does that make me lucky?”

“It means I’m specially qualified to help you improve your endurance.”  What was he _saying_?

Viktor inhaled sharply and swayed closer.  He leaned his weight on a hand that was gripping the side of Yuuri’s seat--when did that happen?  A shiver went through Yuuri at the press of it against his thigh.  Viktor pinned him with a heated gaze and said, “Do you want to know what I’m thinking right now?”

Yuuri was stunned to silence by how beautiful Viktor’s eyes were up close.  So very close.  He jerked his head up and down in an attempt at a nod.  Viktor smirked and leaned in...

But Yuuri didn’t get to find out what Viktor was thinking that got him to make such a sinful expression because a voice was suddenly calling Yuuri’s name.

“Katsuki! There you are!.

Yuuri jolted away from Viktor and looked up to see Seung Gil jogging toward them, hand raised in greeting.   _What did I do to deserve this?_

“ _Seung Gil?_  What are you doing here?”

“Yes. Seung Gil. What a surprise to find you here as well.”  Instead of moving away, Viktor leaned further into Yuuri’s space, eyes narrowing at the newcomer.  Yuuri scooted to the other side of his seat.

Seung Gil and Gongju stopped in front of Yuuri.  “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Okay?  Did you need me for something or...?”  Viktor was half in Yuuri’s seat now and Yuuri was out of scoot room.

“You left before we could exchange contact information,” Seung Gil explained.

“Why do you need that?”

Seung Gil tilted his head.  “Did you forget your promise to me?”

“Oh right.” _I’m supposed to help him with his PCS._ “No I didn’t forget.”

Viktor frowned.  “What promise?”

Yuuri ignored him and continued, “But my number hasn’t changed from before.  Oh wait, do you even still have it?  You've probably deleted it by now, huh.  I’ve still got yours, though.”  For some reason that statement made Viktor squeeze Yuuri’s shoulder.  Yuuri looked at him in question, but Viktor had a stupidly sympathetic look on his face.

Seung Gil shook his head.  “I might have it, but international calls are expensive.  Do you have Line?”

“I think so.  I don’t use it much, give me a second to find my username.”  Yuuri took out his phone.  When he turned it on he resolutely ignored the 58 missed texts from Phichit.

“Okay.”  Seung Gil took the seat on Yuuri’s other side, either ignoring or oblivious to the way Yuuri was partially sitting in it, having scooted past the edge of his own chair.  He addressed Gongju, who was watching the proceedings with little interest.  “Gongju-yah, sit.”  She sat.  Seung Gil nodded and produced a stuffed monkey out of...somewhere.

“ _Jal haess-eo.”_

He held out the monkey and Gongju solemnly took it from him.  She padded away to artfully arrange herself in a sprawl on the floor.  The monkey squeaked as she chewed on it.

Yuuri and Seung Gil exchanged their IDs.  “There you go.”  Yuuri expected Seung Gil to get up and leave after that.  Instead he pocketed his phone and settled into his seat.  Yuuri sighed.  “Are you staying?”

“I guess.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Are you interested in agility?”

Seung Gil shrugged.  “Not really.  But Gongju is really enjoying herself.  She likes to watch other dogs run.”  Said husky was still lying in the same spot with her eyes shut.  Yuuri would have thought she was asleep if not for the squeaking of the monkey in her jaws.  Makkachin and Vicchan approached her curiously.  Eventually they lay down, too, staring mesmerized as the monkey went _squeak squeak squeak._

“Are you sure?  She looks kinda sleepy, Seung Gil.”

“Can’t you see how excited she is?”

Too tired to argue, Yuuri chuckled.  “If you say so.”

Viktor’s echoing laugh was a little too loud.  “The more the merrier!  Right, Makkachin?”

Makkachin yawned.  Mari shook her head at the three of them, squashed together in their seats.  “I don’t even want to know.”

 

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

When the large group semifinals came to an end, Viktor and Makkachin had just barely squeaked into eighth place.  By the skin of their teeth they were going to the finals.

Whatever had come over the large dogs was over by the time the medium dogs took the course.  Yuuri had to keep explaining the rules and scoring system to Seung Gil.  Soon Viktor was asking Yuuri questions, too.  This somehow turned the conversation to Vicchan and how wonderful Viktor found her.

“Vicchan is the fastest dog I’ve ever seen,” Viktor gushed.  “I’m impressed that Yuuri can keep up.”

Seung Gil nodded thoughtfully.  “Katsuki has very fit legs and a lot of stamina.”

Yuuri had been taking a sip from a water bottle and spilled cold liquid down the front of his shirt.  Viktor didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.  He was too busy attempting to burn a hole in Seung Gil’s face with his eyes.

Yuuri could hardly pay attention to the medium group, caught in the middle of...whatever was happening between Seung Gil and Viktor. Viktor would compliment Yuuri and Seung Gil would absently respond with some observation of Yuuri’s better traits.  To Yuuri, they sounded like stats.  Katsuki excels at fluid movement.  Katsuki achieves impressive speed for his height.  Katsuki has excellent spins.

“In ballet!” Yuuri interrupted with a nervous laugh.  “He means to say _turns_.”  Yuuri tried to glare imploringly at Seung Gil, who was too engrossed in the match to pay any attention to their conversation.

Viktor lay a finger on Yuuri’s chin and gently coaxed him back around to gape into sharp blue eyes.  “No fair, Yuuri,” Viktor pouted.  “He gets to see you dance and I don’t.”

Yuuri swallowed and said without thinking, “You can watch me dance anytime.”

Delight bloomed on Viktor’s face.  “Is that a promise?”

Childishly, Yuuri held up his pinky finger.  Viktor laughed and linked his pinky with Yuuri’s. 

Mari scoffed.  “ _Mattaku._  You two might as well be characters in a drama.”

By the time the small matches began, Yuuri was praying for a quick death.  Somehow Viktor and Seung Gil had moved on from Yuuri and were talking themselves up now.  Viktor was explaining in detail just how flexible he _really_ was when Yuuri jumped out of his seat.

“I think I’m going to warm up Vicchan a bit and just, uh, run around.  Over there.  Away from here.”  He enticed Vicchan to follow him with a tugging toy.  “I’ll see you after my match.  Um.  Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Seung Gil said dispassionately.

Viktor jumped out of his seat so quickly it startled Makkachin.  “Would you like a good luck hug, Yuuri?”  Viktor advanced on him with arms spread, but Yuuri was already fleeing to the safety of...anywhere but here.

The second round went by even quicker than the first for Yuuri.  He missed first place but not by much.  There was a fierce young woman from Norway whose tiny papillon was simply terrifying.  They ripped through the course like a bullet train and were finished with their round before Yuuri had even made it back to his seat.  Competition would be tough this year.

“Congratulations, Yuuri!” Viktor swept Yuuri up in a tight embrace.  Yuuri would have hugged back if it weren't for the mental breakdown he was having.  Viktor was hugging him.  He was being held by Viktor’s arms, against Viktor’s chest.  His strong, firm chest.

_He smells so good._

Two sets of paws landed on their legs.  Vicchan’s tiny paws tickled Yuuri’s calves, but Makkachin's paws pushed at their waists.  The larger dog stuck his snout between their bodies, making them laugh.

Releasing Yuuri, Viktor took Makkachin’s front paws in hand and tutted.  “Do you feel left out?  I'm sorry, Makka."

Yuuri bent down and gathered Vicchan into his arms.  “They’re so spoiled.”

Viktor’s response was cut off by a... _meow?_  Yuuri looked around.  It sounded like there was a cat meowing somewhere.  Not impossible at a dog show, but definitely unusual.  Viktor solved the mystery by pulling out his phone, which was ringing, er, meowing.  He winced at the screen.  “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

Yuuri nodded.  “Do you want me to watch Makkachin for you?  We’ll be right here.”

Viktor smiled gratefully.  “Thank you.  I won’t be long.  Be a good boy for Yuuri, Makkachin.”  With a final pat, Viktor hurried away with his phone to his ear.

Mari abandoned her seat to take Vicchan from Yuuri.  The toy poodle snuggled into her puffy jacket with a contented snuffle.  Traitor.  “We’ve got hours to spare, right?  Bet you want to spend time with your new boyfriend when he gets back,” she said.

“He's not my-" Yuuri gave up, sighing.  He looked in the direction Viktor had gone, but he couldn't see that silver head through the dense crowd.  "Viktor...must be tired of tagging along with us all morning.  He’s probably going to want to do his own thing now.”

Mari gave him a _look_.  “Yuuri.  Even you can admit that the man has been following you around like a lost lamb.”

“He’s just friendly.”

“Yuuri.”

“Fine.  He’s been-” _flirting_ “-dropping hints.  About something.  But it’s probably just his way of joking around.  Some people are like that.”  Like Chris.  And sometimes Phichit.  And most Americans.  They all hugged a lot and slapped each other on the butts and said things Yuuri could hardly even think in public.  Viktor was just one of those people.

“No, he’s definitely flirting with you intentionally,” Seung Gil said, nearly giving Yuuri a heart attack because he’d actually forgotten he was still there.  “It’s pretty obvious.”

“Seung Gil, even you?  Look.  What you’re saying, it’s just not possible.  He’s _Viktor Nikiforov_.  And I’m just...” Yuuri gestured lamely at himself and pretended not to see Mari’s disapproving frown.

Seung Gil rolled his eyes in a rare moment of expressiveness.  “Katsuki, I’ve only spent an hour with you guys and I can say that there is a 100% certainty that Viktor Nikiforov is trying to get into your pants.”

“Oh my god.”

Mari groaned with feeling, “And that’s my cue to check out of this conversation.  Yuuri, we’re going shopping later.  Bring your boyfriend.”

“He’s not-” Yuuri began, but his sister was already out of earshot.  Makkachin nosed his hand in sympathy.

“You’re going shopping?” Seung Gil asked.

“Apparently.”  Yuuri supposed it would be the polite thing to do to invite him.  With great reluctance he said, “Would you like to come?”

Fortunately, Seung Gil declined.  “There’s a workshop I want to attend about DIY dog treats.  It starts in fifteen minutes.”  Seung Gil tugged on Gongju’s leash.  She gracefully rose from her elegant sprawl.  Seung Gil held out a hand and she deposited the slobber-soaked monkey in it with all the daintiness of a true princess.  Seung Gil didn’t bat an eye at the disgusting present.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Katsuki.”

“Sure, if we run into each other again.”

“Yes, but I meant at that other event you’re in.  I have tickets.  I’m looking forward to it.”

Yuuri blanched.  “You have tickets—why—I mean, how did you find out about _that?”_

Seung Gil shrugged.  “I figured you would probably be here so I looked for your name in the program.”

Talking to Seung Gil was never ending roller coaster ride and Yuuri wanted off please.  “You _figured_ I would be here?”

“This is a dog show,” Seung Gil explained unnecessarily.  “You go to all the big dog shows.”  (“Not _all_ of them,” Yuuri mumbled.)  “In the time since you retired, you’ve established a reputation in dog lovers’ circles.  I admit I was surprised when I found out.  It’s a big leap from figure skating.”

“Ah. I guess Phichit must have told you.”  It was the only explanation.  Yuuri had little to no social media presence.  He didn't blame Phichit, it's not like he ever said his dog show life was meant to be a secret.  It was just a little embarrassing.

“Phichit?  No.  I looked you up myself.”

“Why?”

“You retired mid-season with no explanation.  Everyone was wondering what happened to you.”

Yuuri's heart sped up at those words.  “What do you mean everyone?”

“The other skaters, other juniors at the time, some of the younger seniors.  We all thought you were going to come back eventually.”

Of course.  Yuuri knew this.  He'd expected people to ask questions about his sudden retirement, especially in Japan.  The shame of it had kept him up at night for months.  But in time, his name stopped showing up in sports articles, the disappointment faded into disinterest, and people just forgot about him.  Which was just fine by Yuuri.

But if Seung Gil, who Yuuri hadn't spared a thought to in years, had done enough research to find Yuuri's name in the program of a dog show in Moscow...

Just before they parted ways (Seung Gil was impatient to get to his cooking workshop), Yuuri couldn't help but ask, “How many people know that I do...this now?”

Yuuri must have some strange expression on his face because Seung Gil actually seemed to stop and think carefully about what he was saying before he said it.  “It depends on how many people were curious like me.  Maybe no one.  Probably no one.”

 _Which means everyone_.  If Seung Gil was curious enough to Google Yuuri, then it was only natural others would have, too.  Yuuri had known this would probably happen.  He'd known.  But he’d been hoping that with his impact in the skating world being so minimal and his career so forgettable, he would be safe in his obscurity.  Unfortunately it seemed the drama of his sudden disappearance from the sport was juicy enough gossip to entertain people in the off season.  Oh, remember that Katsuki kid from Japan?  Yeah, I hear he's doing doggy sports now.  He must be a laughing stock.

He barely registered Seung Gil leaving with Gongju.  He was still feeling sorry for himself when Viktor returned and asked if he was alright.

“I’m fine,” was Yuuri’s weak reassurance.  To distract from himself, he added, “Seung Gil left.  He has other plans, so it’s just us again.”

“Oh, Yuuri.”  To Yuuri’s confusion, Viktor reached over and squeezed his sweaty hand with a sad sigh. And he didn't let go. Viktor simply held drew his thumb across the back of Yuuri's hand in soothing circles.  Every spontaneous touch from Viktor was driving Yuuri’s heart into his throat.  The cold feeling of humiliation was already being drowned out by the sound of rushing blood in his ears.  “I’m sorry,” Viktor said, adding to Yuuri's bewilderment.

“It’s alright,” Yuuri said, not sure what the apology was for or why he was accepting it.  He wasn’t sure of much today.  But he was here.  With Viktor.  It didn't matter that the whole skating community probably thought him a pathetic loser who ran away to join the dog show circus.  He'd been able to meet Viktor because of this.  And Viktor almost seemed to like him, dog circus or not.  That would probably change if he ever found out what a lying failure Yuuri was, but he would never find out.  After today, Viktor would never see Yuuri again.  And though the thought of it hurt, Yuuri was grateful for the few hours he'd gotten to spend with him.  Selfishly, he wished they could have the whole day together.

“Mari said she wanted to go shopping again.  Since we’ve got hours until the final.  So.  If you wanted to come. And you don’t have to. But if you wanted-”

“I’d love to!”  Viktor was smiling so brightly it was like staring into the sun.

Yuuri's stomach fluttered, but he felt warmer.  “Are you sure?  I mean, you must have other things you want to see...”

“What better way to spend the afternoon than with you?”

“That’s my line.”  Yuuri jerked his hand out of Viktor’s grasp to cover his face.  “I mean—!”

“ _Yuuri._ ”  Viktor looked like his birthday had come early.  With more determination than the situation demanded, he proclaimed, “I finally know how I can repay you for your help this morning.  You saved me with your expertise, and now it’s time for me to share with you my talent—shopping!  You’re in my hands now, Yuuri.  I’ll show you that we can have a good time _without_ Seung Gil Lee.”

Yuuri didn't notice how nonsensical the last sentence was because his brain was stuck on ‘You’re in my hands now, Yuuri.’ 

 

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

After a quick detour to pick up Viktor and Makkachin’s things from their puppy cubicle, they set up camp back at Yuuri’s bench.  Both poodles curled up together in Makkachin’s bed, tired after their exercise-filled morning.  Vicchan nestled into Makkachin’s curls with a yawn.

Mari lounged on the bench, too, saying that on second thought she was too tired to shop.  She’d rather just chill for a bit.  But if the other two wanted, she said, they should go and enjoy the dog show while she stayed there minding the pups.

(“ _Three’s a crowd, Yuuri.  And unlike you, I’m jetlagged as hell.  Now go make eyes at your pretty Russian man somewhere else_.”

“ _He’s not my pretty—I mean-_ ”

“ _Don’t forget to buy souvenirs for the neighbors!_ ”)

After asking several times if she was sure, Viktor and Yuuri thanked her and left to explore.

The Standard Agility Finals were at 6:00pm.  It was a little past 3:00 now so they had three hours to kill.  Normally, Yuuri would feel awkward being alone with a person he just met like this, but Viktor dragging him from booth to booth like an excited kid left Yuuri no room to feel nervous.

“Look, Yuuri!  Puppy portraits!  We should remember to bring Vicchan and Makka back here later.” They stopped in front of a stall where you could have your dog's portrait taken by a professional photographer.  Next to it was an area that seemed to be entirely for photo ops.  Viktor made a beeline for these, naturally.

There were wooden panels with holes cut out for you to put your head through.  Viktor chose a heroic scene of a shirtless fireman and his dalmatian. He stuck his head into the dalmatian’s face hole, schooling his expression into a familiar smolder that Yuuri recognized from many a photoshoot.  Laughing, Yuuri took a picture and then, at Viktor’s insistence, took his place as the fireman while the booth attendee snapped photos on both of their phones.

They moved on and were immediately sucked into a shopping vortex.  Yuuri bought a pillow for Vicchan that had the words "COLD NOSE WARM HEART" embroidered on it.  Viktor bought a rainbow kong.  But Yuuri was honestly trying to be frugal.  He promised himself that he would focus on buying souvenirs and nothing else from now on.

But then they found it.  The Pandora’s Box.  An entire booth of only poodle merch. 

It only Mari, the responsible adult, had been there to hold their wallets.  Unfortunately this was not the case and they both left the booth with shopping bags full of poodle paraphernalia.  Yuuri’s favorite were the Russian nesting poodle dolls.  Viktor bought a vintage poodle skirt.  The kind teenage girls wore in old American films.  (When Yuuri asked him what it was for, he said he didn’t know but he was sure it would come in handy one day.)

After that they let themselves get lost in the endless grid of booths, each one peddling stranger goods than the last.  LED leashes.  Machines that blew bacon-scented bubbles.  A dog-to-human bark translator.  Dog snuggies.  Ugly Christmas sweaters for dogs, modeled by Chinese cresteds.

There was even a stand that Yuuri  _knew_ wasn't really supposed to be there.  It wasn't selling products for dogs, but rather for people who liked to dress up as dogs.  Or other furry animals.  It sold attachable tails and ears, human-sized collars with bells on them, even full mascot-like animal suits.

Viktor happily placed a hot pink set of dog ears on his head and asked, "How do I look?"

"Cute," Yuuri breathed and immediately wanted to hide in a hole in the ground and never resurface.  Viktor immediately bought the ears from a woman in a green rabbit costume.  Yuuri supposed it was better than the kigurumi he'd seen Viktor eyeing.

They found a doghouse on display that was taller than they were.  It was nice than most people houses, fully furnished with beautiful wood paneling and a bay window.  The pricetag said it was five hundred thousand rubles.  Even Viktor whistled at that.

Viktor's favorite stall was one that sold parody 'designer' dog toys.  Plushies shaped like purses and shoes modeled after famous brands.  Chewy Vuitton.  Kate Spayed.  Pawda.  There were even chew toys shaped like booze.  Yuuri helped Viktor pick between Arfsolut Vodka and Crispaw Champagne by pointing out that champagne was classier and Makkachin was a gentleman.  Viktor walked away with a Jimmy Chew Shoe chew toy, a bottle of Crispaw, and a classy blue Sniffany & Co. pillow.  Yuuri ended up getting a flat plush that was meant to look like a pink credit card with a pretty white poodle on the front and 'Barkingdales premier pooch' written at the top.

They also spent an embarrassing amount of time fawning over doggie costumes, imagining Makkachin and Vicchan doing a runway show.  They both knew, though, that if they tried to put clothes on their dogs they would never be trusted again.  So they settled for getting dapper little bow ties that attached to their collars.  Collar attachments didn't count as clothes, obviously.  The poodles wouldn't suspect a thing.

After discovering the clothing loophole, Viktor was drawn to the nearest display of fashion collars and leashes.  “I like this one,” Viktor announced, presenting to Yuuri a bright pink number studded with rhinestone flowers.  “For me, obviously.  It's not Makkachin’s style.”

Yuuri tried to sound doubtful.  “Are you sure pink’s your color?”

Viktor huffed.  “I’ll have you know I look excellent in any color.”

Another collar from the display table caught Yuuri’s eye.  He held it out to Viktor.  “This one’s better for you.”  It was purple with rhinestones block letters spelling out, DIVA.

Viktor laughed and plucked a different collar from the table, this one black with white text.  “Do you think this is too bold?”  It read, HEAD BITCH IN CHARGE.

“Maybe a bit,” Yuuri snorted.  He picked up a sky blue collar with white embroidery depicting rolling ocean waves.  It reminded him of Hasetsu.

“Pretty,” Viktor said, stepping in close to see.  He rubbed the texture of the fabric between his fingers.  Their hands were touching and Yuuri didn’t move away.

“Y-yeah, it is."  As Yuuri paid for his collar, they learned that they could order specially engraved dog tags.  They browsed the samples together.

“Yuuri, help me decide.  The heart or the bone?”

“Um, maybe the heart?”

Viktor nodded, holding up two heart tags, one gold and one silver.  “Which-”

“Gold,” Yuuri blurted, then immediately blushed.

Viktor looked surprised, but said smiling, “Okay!  Gold heart for Makka it is.”  Yuuri smiled back shyly.  Blue eyes fell on the smaller gold heart in Yuuri’s hand.  “Are you thinking of that one for Vicchan?”

“I-um...”  Yuuri did want the small heart.  But what if Viktor thought he was copying him, what if he realized he was just some crazy fan who got a poodle because _he_ had a poodle _first_ and then named it _after_ him-

“I love it!  Makka and Vicchan can match now!”  Yuuri’s anxiety melted away in the face of Viktor’s honest enthusiasm.  “I have a great idea.  Let’s make them commemorative souvenirs for today.”

“O-okay!”

In addition to the usual contact information on the back, they added new engravings to the front.

Makkachin’s read: WORLD DOG SHOW 2016 CHAMPION – BEST KISSER

Vicchan’s read: WORLD DOG SHOW 2016 CHAMPION – BEAUTY QUEEN

Making their payments, they agreed to come back in an hour to pick up the finished tags and moved on to the next booth.  Viktor’s attention was caught by yet another shiny display and he grabbed Yuuri’s hand to pull him towards it.  Yuuri kept waiting for him to realize and snatch his hand away.  But as they walked from vendor to vendor, Viktor never let go of his hand for more than a few seconds.  Before he could overthink it, Yuuri interlocked their fingers.  Chancing a shy glance at the other man, he saw Viktor smiling down at him, cheeks lightly tinted pink.  Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat and he pretended to be engrossed in a basket of squeakers.

 _Go easy, Yuuri_.  He tried to ignore the fluttering in his belly, but he was powerless against that smile.

He never did remember to buy souvenirs for the neighbors.

 

U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

Yuuri and Viktor did make a few reasonable purchases.  Yuuri nabbed some apple and peanut butter treats for 50% off, and a pack of dental treats that he hoped would finally do something about Vicchan's demon breath.  He was also excited to find that almost every booth was giving out promotional material.  Yuuri was quickly learning how to say "free sample" in Russian.

When they'd had their fill of shopping, they spent some time wandering the convention hall.  The enormous space was all gleaming white lights and blue carpeting. It echoed with Russian conversation and the occasional bark.  Even without the poodles, Viktor was friendly enough to stop and pet every dog they came across.  Yuuri, who couldn't resist the call of a dog that needed petting, usually joined in.  Normally he'd never do this sort of thing without Vicchan as a buffer.

Yuuri’d been surprised and maybe a little offended at first that nobody seemed to notice that he was hanging out with an international celebrity, but he was glad for it now.  Viktor did most of the talking when they encountered other people, which put Yuuri even further at ease.  He’d even begun saying hello and goodbye in halting Russian to the people they saw.

Another thing Yuuri didn't do much was take selfies, but Viktor wanted to take  _a lot_ of pictures.  Apparently he was live tweeting his dog show experience and posting regular photo updates on Instagram.  So they took pictures.  In front of the Best in Show trophy display.  By the porcelain gzhel sculptures.  Yuuri took pictures of Viktor posing in an absurdly huge dog bed that looked more like a raft, though they got kicked out after some of Viktor’s poses got a little too provocative.  Yuuri had no complaints whatsoever about being Viktor's personal photographer.  But it seemed Viktor was determined to get shots of Yuuri, too.

“Your turn to be the model, Yuuri.  Ooh this looks fun.  Let’s try it!”

Somehow he convinced Yuuri to crawl inside a human-sized dog house at the photo op booth.  Yuuri was embarrassed and stiff at first, but Viktor’s antics—getting into the strangest positions to get _just_ the right angle and physically manhandling Yuuri’s limbs until it was aesthetically pleasing—had him laughing too much to feel very self-conscious.  He lay on his side in the fake grass, one arm pillowing his head and the other dramatically brushing through his hair.  His lower body was in the dog house.  Viktor snapped shots while offering ridiculous directions.

“More eros, Yuuri, more!  Hold the dog bowl out to me, like you’re asking for a treat!”

Yuuri couldn’t keep a straight face for any of the photos.  He felt light and silly.  He wanted to hold on to this feeling, whatever it was.

They headed back to the dog tag stand to pick up their purchases, and on the way stopped to watch some of the Best of Breed judging.  The greyhounds lined up for inspection by a severe looking judge in an unfortunate yellow pantsuit.  After fifteen minutes of breathless anticipation, the third dog from the left was chosen for first place (though Yuuri couldn’t see what made that one different from the others).  The crowd clapped politely as the crying owner accepted their ribbon. 

Yuuri and Viktor debated back and forth about why that hound had won.  Yuuri thought it was because its ears were so symmetrical.  Viktor insisted that it was all in the tail, which he swore was at least a centimeter longer than the others.

After picking up the tags, they found themselves in the Meet the Breed section.  Yuuri hoped nobody remembered him or the havoc he’d caused earlier in the day.  (There was no way he was going back to the place with all the angry groomers.) 

Though nervous about being recognized (especially by the chihuahua guy), he couldn’t maintain any kind of bad mood when surrounded by so many puppies.  He heard a sharp intake of breath beside him.  Viktor’s blue eyes were wide as dinner plates.

“What is all this?”

“It’s usually called Meet the Breed, I’m not sure what it is in Russian.”  Yuuri gestured at the tables lined up in rows.  Each one was well decorated and had some kind of display dedicated to a specific breed.  The tables also each had real life examples of that breed and a couple of humans to supervise. 

The Scottish terrier table, for example, was decked out in plaid and manned by people dressed in kilts who were almost certainly not actual Scots.  In an open ex-pen behind the table were three sleeping scotties.  There were two more on the table, wide awake and chewing on a bagpipe.  Yuuri spotted a sixth one peeking out from underneath the green and red tablecloth.

“Every table is about a different breed of dog,” he explained.  “You can go to each one and learn about them and pet them.  I think you can take pictures, too?”

They were still holding hands so he felt it when Viktor’s suddenly tightened.  He looked close to tears.  “So this...this is an entire area just for petting dogs?”

Yuuri laughed at his expression.  “Pretty much.”

Viktor finally released his hand only to seize him by the shoulders, stars in his eyes.  “What are we waiting for, Yuuri?!”

Yuuri laughed again and let himself be dragged to the nearest table.  He himself had reacted in a similar (if more subdued) way at his first dog show.  Now, though, he was just content to watch the childlike excitement blooming on Viktor’s beautiful face.

“Pugs, Yuuri!!”  Viktor was sitting on the ground and had a pug in each arm, cheeks pink with happiness.  Yuuri wanted to kiss him.

Pushing away all thoughts of kissing and warm fuzzy feelings to deal with later, Yuuri went over to meet the pugs.

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U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U

 

“Which was your favorite, Yuuri?”

They were on their way back to the benches.  It was just a little past 5 so they still had time to kill before their final event at 6:00.

Yuuri thought about his answer seriously.  “The chow chows.  They were like...enormous teddy bears.”

“They were so fluffy!  And I thought Makkachin’s coat was high maintenance.”

“I saw them keeping a brush nearby just in case.”  Yuuri loved the sound of Viktor’s quiet laugh.  He was swinging their hands in between them slightly and it made Yuuri’s heart swell.  “What was your favorite?”

“Hmmm it’s a difficult choice.  I can’t decide between the Portuguese water dogs and the corgis.  They're so _short_ , Yuuri!”

“Not the poodles?”

Viktor waved his free hand.  “Of course it goes without saying that poodles are the best.”

They met up with Mari and offered to take her place at the bench so she could go to the bathroom.  She caught sight of their joined hands and smirked.

“ _Haaaah?  I guess I’ve got a lot to report to mom when I email her later_ ,” she said in Japanese.  While Yuuri was busy wishing the ground would swallow him whole, Mari offered to make a coffee run on her way back and took their orders. 

Vicchan and Makkachin jumped up to greet their owners, but when they realized they weren’t going to be playing or going for a walk, they seemed content to go back to lazing around on the floor.  Yuuri and Viktor made themselves as comfortable as possible on the hard wooden bench.  Yuuri tried not to be too disappointed when their hands separated.

“So Yuuri...” Once Mari was gone, Viktor leaned in closer to Yuuri’s ear.  Probably because it was so loud in the convention center and it was easier to hear him that way.  “Have I mentioned yet how lucky I feel to have run into you today?”

 _What are you talking about I’m the lucky one!_    “Ah, what do you mean?” Yuuri stammered.  Viktor really had no concept of personal space.

“I would have been completely lost without you to guide me.  I had no idea this place was so big, or that the competitions were so complex.  I wanted to make special memories here with Makkachin, but now I get to make ones with you, too.”  Viktor either didn’t notice or was ignoring Yuuri’s tomato complexion.  “And Vicchan and Mari, of course!”

“R-right.” 

_He’s just being friendly.  He’s lonely because all of his friends are in St. Petersburg and he’s glad that he didn’t have to spend the day with just his dog._  

“Um, me too.  I mean, I’m glad we met, too.”  Yuuri was so close he could smell his expensive cologne.  He almost leaned in to the alluring scent before he stopped himself.  “I want to thank you, too,” he blurted.  “For, you know, translating.  A lot of people speak English here, but sometimes not so well, and it can get uncomfortable.”  Yuuri knew this because he’d attempted to make the rounds with the vendors the day before and got the impression that everyone who spoke to him was trying to mask a headache.  Seeing them struggle made him feel guilty and awkward.  In the end he just avoiding talking to anyone at all.

Viktor sounded understanding.  “It was my pleasure.  Would you do the same for me if I was ever in Japan?”

“Of course.”  _You make it sound like we’re going to see each other again._

Silver bangs fanned over one eye, partially hiding a strangely vulnerable look.  But he was smiling.  “Sightseeing in Japan with Yuuri as my guide...sounds like a dream.”

 _The best dream._   Yuuri felt like he was being pulled in.  Viktor’s presence and his words catching him in their gravitational field, drawing him down and down.

“I’d really like that.”

Viktor’s smile turned hopeful.  “You would?”

“Yes.  If you're ever in Japan and you wanted to, that is..."

“Would you take me to see your hometown?  You said it was by the ocean.”

“Hasetsu?”

“Yes.  It sounds wonderful.”

“I...we’d love to have you.  I think...I think you’d like it there.”

“I’ll bring presents for Vicchan.”

“Makkachin can come, too.”

“It’s a promise then.”  A part of Yuuri still doubted that Viktor was being sincere.  He was just being polite.  He'd never want to actually spend time with Yuuri when circumstances weren't forcing them together, let alone visit him at home.  But the naked affection in Viktor’s face made his heart stutter and silenced that doubtful voice.

Viktor was so close...

All the feelings of the day, the butterflies and the dizziness and the heat, all the things he’d been trying not to think about—because _there’s no way_ —came flooding back at once.  Of course he wanted to see Viktor again, that was a given.  But to know that Viktor wanted to see him, too?  It made Yuuri feel strangely bold, like he could just reach out and touch the man and not be pushed away.

_He held my hand.  He wants to see me again.  He wants to come to Hasetsu.  He called me beautiful._

That feeling of lightness and warmth that he’d been holding onto all day...could that be his to keep?

Yuuri didn’t want to hope.  But he did.

“Viktor...”

Those blue eyes were intense, patient, hopeful.  Yuuri inched his hand towards Viktor’s.

“Viktor, I-”

BARK!

Yuuri and Viktor jumped away from each other like they’d been burned.  The hand Yuuri had extended flew up to clutch at his racing heart instead.

Vicchan stood on her hindquarters, front paws pressing against Yuuri’s knees.  She barked again, head cocked to the side as if to say, 'Did you call me?'

Viktor chuckled and picked her up, scratching under her chin.  “You surprised me!  Were you craving attention, my darling?”

Watching Viktor together with his poodle, Yuuri’s insides turned to ice.

_What am I thinking?  I’m just a fan.  I named my dog after him, she even answers to his name.  I have posters.  I’ve learned all his programs.  And tomorrow I’m even..._

_If he knew any of that, he’d run in the other direction._

_Maybe it would be different if we’d met as skaters_ , Yuuri thought, looking on at the scene Viktor made with his dog, heart hurting.  _Maybe then we could have met as equals.  But now I’m just a sad fan who tried and failed to compete._

_Even if he wanted me, I wouldn’t deserve him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OVERCOME SEUNG GIL
> 
> Oops it got a little sad there at the end, but don't worry. This fic is a fluff fest. It's just been a crazy day for Yuuri and he's retreating to his safe space of crushing self-doubt.
> 
> Once again I'm taking a LOT of liberties with the WDS. I made up a lot of the displays and stalls, though I based them on things I've seen. The gzhel statues were real, though. And the Meet the Breed section *might* have been at the WDS in Moscow, idk, but it's at a lot of dog shows. At Crufts they call it Discover Dogs. It was probably called something else in Moscow. But when I first entered the Meet the Breed part of the Westminster show I legit almost started crying. So much dog. Oh my god.
> 
>  _gongju_ = "princess" (Korean)  
>  _jal haess-eo_ = "good job/well done" (Korean)  
>  _mattaku_ = "geez"/expression of exasperation (Japanese)
> 
>  
> 
> **LINKS:**
> 
> [[Reference]](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/f1/0e/d1/f10ed1b4d2ae892f13d23453b9bc120e.jpg) for Seung Gil's suit  
>  The designer dog toys are based on reality. I was trying to find the type of dog goodies that Viktor was likely to get. When I saw [[this]](https://www.glamourmutt.com/assets/images/dog-diggin-designer-designer-dog-toys-assortment.jpg) I just Knew. Here are some [[other examples]](https://www.hautediggitydog.com/collections/view-all-designer-parody-toys). And here's that [[bottle of Crispaw]](https://www.glamourmutt.com/Crispaw-Champagne-Dog-Toy_p_2018.html).  
> [[Here is a video]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOzCy5SnrrY) of what the Meet the Breeds part might look like.


End file.
